


Brave New World: Gilded Earth

by TheFriendlyCritiquer



Series: TFP: Brave New World [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Cyberformed Earth, Cyberformed Humans, If You Squint - Freeform, Psychological Torture, Slight June/ Ratchet, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, Trigger Warnings, there will be a happy ending I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 105,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25388518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendlyCritiquer/pseuds/TheFriendlyCritiquer
Summary: Megatron was not caught unaware. The battle for the Omega Lock on Cybertron was short and fierce, with the Tyrant the victor. He then proceeds to follow through with his threat and cyberforms Earth. Everyone must now learn to navigate this Brave New World. But what is the cost of surviving, and is it really worth the price once the dust settles?
Series: TFP: Brave New World [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838701
Comments: 85
Kudos: 89





	1. Robots that can die

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Metempsychosis](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628017) by [Misgel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misgel/pseuds/Misgel), [RianMoeru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RianMoeru/pseuds/RianMoeru). 



> I know, I know, I should be working on my other story. But I hit a rut, and in the interim I became obsessed with other fandoms, one of which is Transformers. I’m totally inspired by [Misgel’s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misgel/pseuds/Misgel)and [Rian Moeru’s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RianMoeru/pseuds/RianMoeru) stories, which at the top of the list is their co-authored series [Metempsychosis/ Transference.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20628017/chapters/48981473) If you haven’t read that story and are a fan of Transformers, what’s wrong with you? I encourage you to check it out as they are fantastic authors and have written one of the best fanfics of any fandom I’ve ever read.
> 
> As for this story, it will not be as long as my Time’s Saga Series, but it’s currently unknown exactly how long it will be. There is no update schedule set as of yet and this will be cross-posted on FF .net, AO3, and possibly Wattpad. I have three major arcs plotted out, with what I hope is a satisfactory ending, which equates to about three books. The title is purposeful, as I’ll be drawing a few vague parallels to Aldous Huxley’s classic. (Props to you if you managed to read that book without going a little stir-crazy.) As for the rating, I’m going to try and keep it Teen, but there will be heavy stuff. This first chapter is a good example of what’s to come. Death, torture, possibly mentions of rape, suicide, and trigger warnings abound in this. What will not be in this story is explicit sexual content of any species, which seems so very prevalent in the Transformers fandom. (WHY!?!?!) Romance takes a rain check in this one, as I’m far more interested in exploring the psychological repercussions of a transformed earth. I will try to space out the angst with humor and hope, but this is an overall darker series.
> 
> If you’re up for it, sign the notice, please, and let’s get started!  
> -The Friendly Critiquer

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_Everyone suffers their own personal hell. That is the third indisputable fact about life, other than death and taxes. I’m having to revisit my hell because somebody had the bright idea that my life would make a great lecture for future generations. So fine. I’ve done literally every other possible and impossible thing for humanity, writing down my viewpoint should be a cakewalk compared to some of the things I’ve suffered through (idiotic, pointless council meetings being at the top of the list there! Take note!)_. ~ Excerpt taken from Memoirs of Darby, Vol. 1

**Chapter 1: Robots that can die**

Numb.

Jack’s whole body was numb. He didn’t realize his body had a constant light shake. As he ran his fingers over his arms pins and needles raced across his nerves. He was freezing, but he didn’t care if his core body temperature was dropping or that his appendages had the signs of early frostbite. He didn’t care. _He really didn’t fragging care._ If a slow, painful death was coming, he wholly deserved it a million times over. Death would be the least he could offer for the sin of still being human. Of still being alive.

All those people…

Every.

Single.

Person.

Earth… Earth was.... It was Megatron’s.

Jack pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He thought he had long ago ran out of tears, but they started up again without permission. They ran down the sides of his motley red face, hot for a moment, before quickly adding to the agonizing chill. The deep breath he intended was cut short due to the overwhelming pain in his throat. Saying that it hurt was about as bland as saying that the sky was blue or that grass is green. It couldn’t convey the layers and shades of the pain, and pressure, and the sensitivity his throat was like at the moment. It wasn’t just his throat either. His knuckles were busted and shooting pain laced through his arms and elbows, legs and knees from when he foolishly tried breaking through the all-too-solid container.

But his heart… _That_ pain made his physical injuries manageable. The cold did a great job of numbing his body. But his heart? It palpitated between a raging blue star’s heat and the emptiness of space. And when it whiplashed between the two, he could only clutch his chest and heave.

There was a thin, keening sound beside him and instinctively he turned to it. Immediately he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Miko again. Miko, the spunky go-getter who ran after giant robots with reckless abandon. Miko, who played her shriek music too loud and always had a couple of colored pencils shoved down her back pocket. Miko, the rebellious exchange student who always had a say in anything. Miko, who snuck up behind him and encouraged him to get on the saddle of the alien motorbike. Miko, who was now crumpled in on herself, her hair loose and tangled with her body spasming with tight jerks. Miko, who had frost creeping across her wet and soiled clothes. Miko, who breathlessly muttered in multiple languages, but with one word constantly repeated: “Bulkhead”.

He had heard it all before in varying octaves and pitches. He had said it all before, too. Screamed it, bellowed it, pleaded and swore and babbled, all to no avail. Megatron wouldn’t listen. He instead laughed in that twisted, mocking way of his, more than assured of his complete and utter victory. Because he had finally dealt the killing blow.

Jack was numb.

After Megatron’s initial giddy breakdown, he had leered at the stunned Autobots and their humans. ”What will you do now? Will you continue your reckless, worthless crusade even though your mighty leader is dead?”

Each word was an energon blast straight to the heart. It held such spite that each syllable seemed to hover for a moment before falling heavily on ears and audios alike. It was ‘Bee who acted first. There was a scrambled, ear-splitting screech that was unlike anything Jack had heard from the scout before. A flash of yellow seemed to materialize before the giant mech, but Megatron was ready. _Just like he was ready for his last opponent._ Without hesitation he grabbed Bumblebee’s cannon arm and twisted him around so swiftly that ‘Bee’s shot went wild.

Only, it didn’t.

Having honed his skills in the Pits of Kaon, and eons of experience on the battlefield, Megatron was not only skilled in combat, he was clever. With the scout completely off-balance he had full control over the trajectory of the shot. And he did not waste it. Arcee had thrown herself high into the air to cross the distance needed to face the Lord of Decepticons from the side. Her bloodlusting bellow of grief turned into a high-pitched squeal of pain that Jack wished he never heard. It was higher pitched than a faulty transmission on a normal vehicle. And it was far more human.

He was pretty sure his heart stopped beating as he watched her fall. Her optics flickered on and off and her thin, metal lips were stretched in pure agony. Her beautiful blue frame crashed to the ground with a shock wave that shook Jack to his core. Her face had twisted away from him, so he couldn’t see her optics. To see if they still had life in them. He shouted at her to get up. He screamed profanities that if his mother knew he knew he would be grounded until he was sixty. He begged her to twitch, to shudder, to do _anything_ , just so he would know. He didn’t feel the tears streaming down his face, or the fact that he had awkwardly knelt down in his cylindrical cage. He could feel his hands swelling with how hard he was banging on the glass, but he vehemently ignored that to continue his feverious, but futile, crusade. His obsessive ramblings were only cut short when a torrent of staticky, pain-filled wails crashed through his glass prison.

He looked up to see an image he would never forget for as long as he lived. Bumblebee was forced to one knee while bending backwards at an awkward angle as Megatron pushed against him. But the Lord of the Decepticons wasn’t just holding him down. He was pushing his claws almost delicately into the scout’s face. ‘Bee thrashed and scratched with his one good servo while the other hung useless and broken at his side.

“Nooo! Stop it! Please! Bumblebee!”

Raf’s cries were almost lost over the scout’s own shouts, but not because he was his usual timid self. Raf was consumed with pain, being forced to watch as his best friend was slowly being torn apart. And he was scared. His fear bleed into his trembling pleadings that were now growing fainter. Jack instinctively hunched his shoulders up to his ears in pity, and sorrow, and self-loathing. What could he do, to stop the wrath of the tyrant? They were just… just kids. Frail, human kids. They stood no chance. Who was going to stop this atrocity?

A familiar war cry gave him hope. Bulkhead broke through the ranks of Eradicons and was charging straight for the Lord of the Decepticons, with Miko wholeheartedly cheering him on. Jack and Raf also joined in, cherishing the moment that the noble, green Wrecker provided them.

That spurred the mad leader into finishing his job early. With a sickening pop, Bee fell back with a staticy scream, his one good servo frantically patting the right side of his face. Megatron held the scout’s optic triumphantly in his fingers, unaware or uncaring of the energon dripping off his claws. But in an instant the petty revenge with the scout was forgotten as the ruined optic was dropped carelessly in favor of unsheathing his blade.

There was a clang and a shower of sparks as Bulkhead’s mace glanced off the sword, but the wrecker was unfazed. He kept a steady, furious attack of heavy blows that forced a startled grunt out of the tyrant. When Megatron had to quickly backpedal, Miko’s cheers only grew louder. Her exuberance was cut short when her guardian’s head rolled to a stop not twenty feet from her cylindrical prison.

There was a mortifying silence that stretched between the three humans. Jack didn’t know what he felt then. His mind had ceased to process the friendly giant’s sightless optics, or the energon oozing from the wrecker’s fuel lines. Miko wasn’t that far away, but Jack had a hard time hearing her breathless whisper over his own buzzing thoughts.

“Bulk...head?”

A quiet question. It was like she couldn’t see the evidence before her. Like he just hadn’t thrown his life away.

“ _Bulkhead!_ ”

Jack flinched. Miko’s scream was utterly horrifying. It was high pitched and animalistic. Instantly she changed. Jack wasn’t sure how she did it, but the fear and hurt she clearly was feeling morphed into a blind hatred that was directed at the merciless warlord.

“I hate you! I HATE YOU! You fragging piece of pit-spawned-”

Jack tuned her out. He glanced to his other side when he heard Raf’s heaving. The boy knelt at the bottom of his cage and his body wracked with sobs. Jack nearly lost his composure right then and there. Miko’s anger made a lot of sense now. Surely feeling anger was better than this bitter hopelessness that had sunk deep into his chest.

They had lost. That last ditch effort cost them everything. There was no one left. But Jack knew that their war, their very lives, were forfeit the moment Optimus’s spark had faded.

Unbidden, his eyes went back to the husk of the gentle giant. Optimus was still. His chest plates were ragged and torn, a stark contrast to his face which oddly seemed at peace. Jack faintly gasped when he saw movement next to the Prime. Like a ghost, Smokescreen rose up from the ground. An expression of pure torture crossed the young mech's features as he placed a reverent servo next to the grousome wound. He looked up sharply when Megatron’s mad laughter cascaded across the battlefield.

“At last!” the tyrant crowed. “The Autobots fall before me. From their scout,” Megatron ground his pede into ‘Bee’s ruined shoulder, eliciting another scream. The mad mech paused to revel in the scout’s pain. Lazily, he turned his head to look at Optimus while speaking in a casual, nonchalant way, but Jack could hear the bitterness in his words. “To their Prime.”

It was almost funny, how wide Megatron's optics became when he spotted the young recruit hovering protectively over Optimus. Smokescreen likewise froze under the tyrant’s hard stare. Jack wasn’t entirely sure what shifted in the next second, but Smokescreen clenched his denta together so hard Jack could hear them snap together even across the wide expanse.

“Get him!” Megatron roared to his troops, as he raised his own cannon.

Smokescreen flickered his optics first to the Omega Lock behind the tyrant, then to Jack. Jack stiffened under that stare. Cybertronians may have been an alien species, but they were similar to humans. In a flash, Jack recalled the words spoken in awe and wonder soon after he had met the Autobots.

 _“Robots who get dizzy?”_ Miko had asked with legitimate curiosity.

 _“Robots with emotions…”_ Raf had followed up almost disbelieving.

 _“Robots… who can die.”_ Jack himself uttered. He remembered that was a turning point for him. Accepting the fact that there were metallic aliens was surprisingly simple. But to admit that they were so similar to himself… that was heavy stuff.

The look Smokescreen gave him was just as heavy. There was unbridled desperateness and sorrow as the young mech unconsciously curled his fingers around his leader. Jack clenched his teeth.

He understood the unspoken question. The pleading behind those optics. The regret at the choice that had to be made. Jack didn’t want to make the choice. He was scared. To prove it, a thrill of fear ran up his spine and he sucked in a breath. But he halted.

_Robots who can die._

Purposefully, he ignored the helm laying before him.

_Robots who can Die._

He shut out ‘Bee’s fading cries.

_Robots who can DIE._

Arcee was still laying there, motionless.

_ROBOTS WHO CAN DIE!_

Optimus Prime, the noble leader of the Autobot cause, was dead.

Closing his eyes, he finished his breath. When he opened his eyes they had turned into ice-cold chips. He knew he would not, _could not_ , regret his decision. Megatron had won. He just witnessed the mutilation of Bumblebee and the decapitation of Bulkhead. No more. Smokescreen had to run. He _had_ too. And he couldn’t take the humans with him, not with their liability. The Matrix of Leadership was more important than three human children and a severely injured Autobot. Smokescreen had to run. It was the right choice.

“ _Go_.”

Jack could scarcely get the word out without his whole body convulsing in fear. He hoped his face managed to stay hard and determined. But it was the permission Smokescreen needed. With grim sorrow, the playful sportscar closed his optics and fell through the ground with Optimus Prime. A massive explosion sent debris flying everywhere not a moment later.

The teeneager didn’t know what to feel. He thought there should have been some sense of relief or victory, that at least one Autobot was beyond the clutches of the Decepticons. But he was numb. He couldn’t feel anything. Slowly, he sank fully to his knees and pressed his head against the glass. It vibrated with the primal growl Megatron let loose, and he flinched again.

He was tired. Slowly, he closed his eyes. He couldn’t take this anymore. This wasn’t how his day was supposed to go. A sharp bitter laugh, half-crazed, hiccuped from him. Was it really only a few hours ago he was falling asleep in English class? How could everything go so horribly wrong so quickly. It was insane.

He could feel himself slipping. It was a strange sensation. Part of him recoiled from the lack of control, but the exhausted part of him was grateful for the mundane, ridiculous thoughts flittering through his mind.

What was Sierra doing at a time like this? His boss was probably hopping mad right now for having missed the first half of his shift. Again. He needed to study for the upcoming math test. Calculus was a killer. Maybe he could get Raf to explain the concepts again? And he had to take out the trash before mom got home. Oh. Mom. He hadn’t texted her, so she was probably freaking out. What was he going to tell her?

Mom.

_Mom?_

Through the haze, he heard Starscream’s groveling stutters. “-far from me, my Lord, but what is the reason to continue cyberforming that mudball of a planet? Your baiting worked perfectly. Your arch nemesis is dead! Surely restoring Cybertron is far more importa-”

“Be silent, Starscream!”

Jack blinked blankly, but more of his mind focused on the conversation.

Megatron folded his hands behind his back and fully faced the Omega Lock. Jack couldn’t see his expression, but he grew strangely irritated listening to him.

“It has taken me quite some time to fully comprehend that Earth and Cybertron have always been linked. Two halves of one whole; Primus and Unicron. And that to rule only one, would be to never truly rule either. And I will not rule over anything that is less than perfect. Earth _must_ be cyberformed.”

There was a tense, awkward silence, until Starscream shrugged his wings in submission. He took a few suliky steps back and in a neutral tone muttered, “Yes, Lord Megatron.”

Jack lazily roved his eyes. He tilted his head back, much like Megatron was doing, to see a beautiful sight: Earth.

Earth was _glowing_. A beautiful array of swirling blue and green surrounded it. _A spacebridge_ , his mind provided. And a powerful beam of light was shooting forth, as if it was trying to pierce his home.

 _Cybermatter_.

 _Home. Megatron is trying to destroy my home._ The thought should have come and went, like the millions of others in his head. But it kept coming back like an annoying mosquito. It reverberated in his skull, buzzing with urgency.

 _Home_.

Another image began to appear repeatedly. It was a memory, not much more than a year ago. Mom was sitting across from him at the dinner table. A rare moment, as she hardly got time off to come home early enough to eat dinner with him. It was a simple meal. Oven baked tofu with a side of rice and microwaved vegetables. Bland, and rather tasteless, but mom was happy. There was a smile tugging at her lips, and the crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled. She was tired, but she was paying attention to the stupid story he was telling her about his day. He had no idea what he was saying, only that the reaction of seeing her smile was more than worth whatever bad joke he was trying to tell. And it _hurt_.

_Mom. Mom was on Earth._

_MOM!_

Clarity crashed down upon him. It was like when Vince snapped him with a rubber band in the middle of class. It was sharp. Painful. And caused him to react instantly.

“MEGATRON!”

All his righteous anger, all his pent up frustrations, all the heart-crushing agony and the deep-seated sorrow he felt in the last hour exploded outward in that one word. But it was like the dams had broken. Again, he felt himself losing control, but this time there was no hesitation. And it was a different sort of mind-numbing process. The clarity of his situation, of the billions of unwitting lives at stake, of his mother caught in the cross-fire of a war neither should have been in, caused fire to race through his veins. He was burning with feelings like he never had before.

“MEGATRON! Leave Earth alone! Leave my home alone, you bastard! There’s no reason for you to do this! _LISTEN_ to me!” He knew he was going to regret it later, hitting the glass like that. But he didn’t care. He would make Megatron listen to him, no matter what.

It seemed that his shouting worked, because Megatron’s claws twitched, just before he snapped his head around to meet his cold red optics with Jack’s own hot blue eyes. Something between a scowl and a sneer crossed his face as he stalked over.

Jack’s heart thumped erratically in his chest, and he felt pressed to take a step backwards. But he swallowed back the urge and instead tilted back his head to keep the eye contact. He wanted to scream and to rage, but all the words died as Megatron stared down at him.

“Listen to you?” The Lord of Decepticons asked, composedly, quietly, almost curiously, with a slight tilt to his head. “And why, pray tell, should I listen to _an insect?_ ” The question came as a hiss and he enunciated the English term precisely.

Jack bared his teeth. He knew Megatron’s insult was trying to rile him up, send him into a blind rage again, but he kept a tight lock on his control. With a shaky breath and a glare he hoped was intimidating, he growled back, “It’s my home. You have no reason to be on Earth. You’ve won. Take over Cybertron, rebuild it, do whatever you want! But leave my planet _alone_.”

Jack wished he was more intimidating. He wished his words had the power to back them up. He wished that Optimus was here to wipe that smug grin off the bastard’s face.

Megatron reached down and plucked Jack’s cage up with one servo. Bringing Jack to just below his eye level, the tyrant replied. “Oh? And what happens if I call Earth my home now? Then I can do as I wish, isn't that correct? I want to be able to enjoy where I live.”

Jack’s heart skipped a beat. His mind had a hard time understanding where Megatron was going with this. So he fell back to his initial argument. He spat back, “It isn't yours! Cybertron is your planet. So use the Omega Lock to fix the world you destroyed, and stay away from Earth!”

He knew he had crossed the line when Megatron narrowed his optics. There was an echoing, crackling sound, like a glacier breaking apart or a massive tree falling over. It made Jack flinch and he looked around wildly. Instinctively, he knew his life was in danger and he was correct. Looking up, he saw Megatron’s nails digging into the thick glass. His heart leapt to his throat and he flung himself backwards, his back hitting against the seemingly fragile wall.. His thoughts ran wild. He was on another planet. The Decepticons put him in this tube prison not only to transport him, but to keep him alive as a bargaining chip. If those claws broke through the glass, he was dead. Dead, dead. DEAD.

“So you understand your position, boy,” Megatron mused. His voice turned husky and dark as he pinned the human with a haughty stare. "Earth. Is. _Mine_. I am Megatron, Leader of the Decepticons, Slayer of Primes, and conqueror of your world. I have no need to listen to anyone, least of all a pest like you.”

Jack couldn’t stop his trembling. He opened his mouth to tell the mech to shut-up, that he knew all that already, but fear of the imminent future prevented him from saying anything. What was he supposed to do? What could he say? He closed his eyes and shut his jaw as hard as it could. He was going to die.

Idly, Jack realized his heart was slowing down, returning to a normal, steady beat. When he opened his eyes, he found Megatron staring right back. With a huff of breath, he muttered, “It’s my home.”

The admission was quiet. There was pleading, obviously, to his tone, but there was a surprising amount of fierce possessiveness that he managed to bring back, despite the fate that awaited him. “It’s my home,” he repeated, steadying his resolve, “To not fight for it means I wouldn’t care much about it, now would it?”

Megatron stared at the young man for a moment longer. Jack stared right back, but he knew he lacked the fire from before. His hands trembled but for what reason he wasn’t sure. As his mind went quietly, blessedly blank, he blinked slowly. That fog was coming back, and Jack struggled to hold on to anything; to his anger, his hate, the biting sorrow. But it was too much effort. His gaze drifted downward and his bangs fell into his eyes. His heart continued that same, slow, rhythmic pattern.

Abruptly, his world tilted and moved. The only warning he got was a bellow of, “Starscream!” before he realized he was flung through the air toward the seeker. Jack hissed when his head slammed against the clear wall and when he opened his eyes he saw the Decepticon insignia staring at him. His world shifted and moved again as Starscream struggled to keep a grip on the canister.

“My Lord?” The seeker squeaked.

“Take the humans back to the Nemesis.”

“Lord Megatron, for what reason do we need to keep these filthy-”

“Are you questioning my orders, Starscream?”

Even Jack flinched at the cold tone. He felt the cage tremble in the Second Commander’s arms. “No, sir,” came the eventual reply. Before Megatron could answer him, Starscream pointed to some nearby Eradicons. “You there! Take the humans back to the Nemesis, as Our Lord commands.” Jack was jostled none-too-kindly as he was passed yet again.

“Oh, and Starscream,” Jack shuddered at the purr that came from the conqueror. “The Omega Lock is transforming this world into something worthwhile. Something worth ruling. I’ve decided on the name of our new home: Gilded Earth. ”


	2. The Metamorphosis

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ "I've spent a great deal of time studying The Metamorphosis. The best I can conclude, from my own personal experience and from the testimonies of others, is that those who survived the change had little to no contact with metal during the critical Engulfment Period, which as you know, could have lasted anywhere between an hour to ten hours. This theory is upheld by the fact that there was a less than 5% survival rate for those in metropolitan zones, when compared to a nearly 60% or higher survival rate for those outside the cities." _

-Notes taken from the recorded lectures of Medic Mer-cee, PhD, MD, EdD

**Chapter 2: The Metamorphosis**

June was going to kill her son. Thirty-eight messages! Thirty- _ eight! _ And she was in the process of giving him his thirty-ninth as she flew down the highway. 

“Honestly, son! When I get to the hideout and find that you forgot to turn your phone on or something, I’m taking you straight home, no friends of any kind allowed. Just… please be there.”

Her voice wavered and she immediately ended the call. When she glanced at the speedometer, she grimaced and took her foot off the pedal. Yes, she was worried about Jack, but it wouldn’t do anyone any good if there just so happened to be a bored patrolman waiting around. Two seconds later, though, she bit her lip and looked at the empty expanse around her. Maybe going just five over the limit would be excusable.

The mesa was in sight when a bright flash of light came out of nowhere. Slamming on her breaks, she tried not to swerve, but her car lost traction and she went kreening into the ditch. 

“Ahh!” She screamed, but thankfully the soft sand sunk the tires and her car stopped on its own. After doing a quick mental check of her physical state, she rubbed her eyes until she thought she could see. 

“What the…” She muttered. 

To her left, not more than two miles away, there was a bright beam of… something. June had to look away as staring at it was the same as staring at the sun. Spots danced across her vision and she rubbed her eyes again. She hesitated for a moment, then popped her constricting seatbelt, opened her door and got out. Her shoes filled with sand and she scowled. 

“Great,” she grumbled. If Jack really wasn’t at the base, he was going to get an earful tonight.

Quickly she examined her car, noting that it didn’t get any major bumps or scrapes, but it was tilted haphazardly. All the while she tried to ignore the eerie green and white light reflecting off the paint. There was something wrong with it. The uneasy feeling from before hit her in the gut again. Desperately, she called Jack’s number. 

“Come on, come on.” It continued to ring several more times until it clicked. “Yes. Jack! Jack I need-”

“ _ Hey~! Sorry I missed your call. If you’re a number I don’t know I probably ignored you, sorry. If you’re mom, OK, I really am sorry. I forgot to turn my phone on or somethin’. If you’re a friend, well, you’re probably watching me aren’t you? So save me from having to sputter whatever stupid excuses that come to mind, please. So leave your message and I’ll get back to ya. K, love you all. Bye.” _

June slowly lowered her hand. When the tone beeped she turned it off and put it in her pocket. With a huff, she turned back to her car with her arms crossed.

“So what’s next?” she asked herself. It was a habit she picked up over the long, slow nights she had worked as a nurse, as a way to keep herself focused. Tossing her hair and wiping the sweat off her neck, she stomped back to the car. Climbing back into the driver’s seat, she started it up, put it into reverse, and tried driving out of the ditch. 

She struggled for the next twenty minutes, but nothing worked. Going slow, going fast, turning the wheels, they all ended the same: with the car stuck a good six inches in the dirt. Resting her forehead against the steering wheel, she debated her next move. Calling for a tow-truck would be the smart thing, but she didn’t like the idea of forking over money they didn’t have for something as stupid as this. Maybe if she asked nicely, one of her son’s friends could pull her out? There wasn’t any visible damage to the car, so she wouldn’t have to report it to insurance, either.

With a sigh, she pulled out her phone again and dialed Ratchet.

“What is it?” The ‘Bot’s cranky voice echoed over the line.

“Ratchet? I- I need some help. If you could-”

“I’m sorry, but Optimus and …” Static filled the phone and June winced. That was strange. Calls to the Autobots were always clear. “are out on a  _ very _ important mission right... I need to …line open in case of emergency. You’re on your own.”

That last sentence came through loud and clear, punctuated with a beep marking the call ended. 

“Oohh, when I get there, I’m going to have a word with that medic!”

With a huff, June threw her phone and keys in her purse, and grabbed her half-empty water bottle. Then she grabbed her sunglasses and hat from the back seat. With perhaps a little extra force than necessary, she crawled out of her car again and slammed the door. Just barely remembering to lock it, she walked up the embankment, where she kicked the sand out of her shoes. She spared that foreboding pillar of light another glance before beginning her trek to the hidden nuclear missile silo. 

It was hot out, and June squinted against the heat waves that rippled before her. The sun was just reaching the point where it could be considered going down, but it would still be a good two hours before it actually did. But there was that other light that cast a second shadow across the cracked blacktop.

As she thought about it, it really was strange. When she dared to glance at it, it seemed to come a little closer each time. And it’s colors reminded her of something. It took her nearly a quarter of a mile to recognize the similar traits to the ground bridge. She hesitated for a long minute. If it really was connected to the Autobots, then did Fowler know? If the ex-ranger didn’t, she didn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. But something like that was a beacon for avid photographers and alien hunters from all over the state. Pausing to take a drink from her quickly depleting water, she dialed the agent’s number.

“Agent Fowler, who’s this?” The man barked. There was plenty of static coming through his side, so June pulled the phone slightly away from her ear.

“It’s me! June!”

“June? Darby? What do you need? I’m rather busy right now.” Fowler’s voice softened as he said her name, but he did have to keep this short.

“Huh, so’s Ratchet,” she muttered, “Anyway, I called to let you know that there’s something weird happening out here. There’s a pillar of-”

“Of light close to the Autobot base. I'm on that."

"Well, do you know what it is?"

"Not a clue. But we're picking up some major radiation readings. I'm about to order an evacuation of Jasper. Where are you?"

"More than a mile from the base. Seriously, radiation?"

"Turn around and go back. Get out of there, June." Fowler was calm, but the order was sharp and concerned.

"I can't!" June's voice rose an octave. That light was definitely coming closer. And was it expanding? "My car broke down in the ditch when I went looking for Jack. I was close to the base, so I decided to hoof it there, and get some answers, because Ratchet just hung up on me."

"You spoke with Ratchet?"

"He yelled at me. He was saying something about having to keep the line open for the others to contact him."

"Damn. What a time for Prime to have gone on a road trip! Get to the base, June. I'll be flying in to get some answers as well, as we can't reach the Autobots from here. I'll fly you out with the kids."

"OK. Thank you Agent Fowler. And… be safe."

There was a brief moment, before there was a staticky, "You stay safe as well. I'll see you soon."

Then the line went dead. It didn't even occur to June as she snapped her phone shut, that it would be the last time she spoke with the kindly ex-ranger.

Pushing the sunglasses back up her nose, June gave the disturbing light another worried glance. Radiation. How much radiation? Fowler didn't give any indication, but as a nurse she couldn't help but go over all the horrible facts on radiation poisoning. With an even more motivating cause, she gulped the last of her water, stretched her legs as a warm-up, then began to sprint down the highway.

Other's health and well-being was her top priority, as both a mother and a nurse. Right now, though, she was deeply regretting all those times she skipped leg day. It wasn't like she was overweight or never exercised, but she was not prepared to run a mile in the scorching desert heat. It felt like she had just gotten started when she had to pause and catch her breath. It was only moments later that she began her sprint again, spurred on by the strange happenings around her. 

The light was  _ definitely  _ moving. And it was crawling towards the base, and her, at what seemed to be an increasing rate. June would have fooled no one if she claimed she wasn't scared. She was downright terrified. 

Too soon, she had to stop again. Her head was swirling and she felt like puking. Her lungs burned like they were on fire, but she hacked and wheezed as a terrible itching sensation crawled down her throat. Spurred on by the terrors of radiation poisoning, June took several clumsy steps forward. When her feet sunk into shifting sand that marked the edge of the highway and the barren expanse just before the secret entrance, she stumbled and fell. With a cry she landed on her side.

That was it. June knew she needed a moment to rest. Her body was overheating and her muscles were cramping. Hoping for a miracle, June rummaged in her purse for her phone. Squinting at it blearily, she tried to dial Jack yet again. But something was wrong. The screen kept glitching out and bright, white symbols seemed to jump out at her. When her phone began smoking, she screamed and dropped it on the ground. She rubbed her eyes again, thinking it was just her imagination but when she lifted her sunglasses to get a better look, she noticed something. Against the bright,  _ bright _ light she saw floating to the ground tiny grains of sand. Dark and shimmery, as if they were the shavings of some metallurgy. 

June hacked again. Putting two and two together, June ripped off her hat and pulled off her shirt. Quickly she tied it around her nose and mouth as a make-shift mask. Stubbornly, she pushed herself to her knees, her legs screaming in protest all the while. Unsteadily she climbed to her feet and began her rapid march. She refused to look beside her and see how wide that light had become. She refused to even look ahead and see the distance she had to cross before safety could be found. She strictly kept her sights a few steps ahead of her, ignoring the pounding of her head and the burning of her lungs and legs.

A mantra started up that she clung to like it was all she had. "I'm almost there, Jack. Just be safe. Please, my baby boy, just be safe."

June was less than a hundred feet from the entrance when the light touched her. But by then she had passed out from pain and exhaustion. 

* * *

Ratchet woke to silence. The peacefulness of where he lay immediately set his processor on edge. When he opened his optics he was not prepared for what he saw. He was clearly not in the base. With a jerk he tilted his helm left and right, staring in awe. Everywhere he looked was pure, solid cybermatter. His only conclusion was that he was on Cybertron, but how was that possible?

Last thing he remembered was furiously banging on the wretched human-based equipment as alarms blared and lights flashed around him. It didn’t make sense. He was waiting, as he always did, for Optimus to report back on their success of the mission. And this latest mission was of the greatest importance. The restoration of their home. It was something he looked forward to. There was no possible chance Optimus would fail. During the wait he received two calls from the humans, but he made sure those didn’t last long. He had gotten used to their organic companions, but their issues were insignificant when compared to Cybertron's revival. Then the sensors started acting up and security responded, creating a denta-grinding situation worse. It was during that chaos he was overwhelmed by a powerful E.M. surge that sent him into unconsciousness. 

With a grunt, he got to his pedes, then did a double-take. There was no need to grunt, as there was none of the usual pain of overworked struts or worn-out wires. Strange. Experimentally, he shrugged his shoulders and swung his arms. Very strange. It was like he was a young mech again. Without further ado he did a full scan on himself, and nearly toppled over in surprise at the results.

Again, he did the scan. And again he wondered if he needed to get his processor checked. The results concluded that his nanite levels were higher than they had been in vorns. His struts and bearings were in fantastic condition, as if he had just come out of replacement surgery. And most shocking of all, his energon levels were full, to almost bursting. Even his spare tanks were full. His synthetic energon experiments didn't come close to granting him this much vitality. 

What on earth happened?

He gave his surroundings a critical look over. The shapes and curves were very familiar. There, it looked like the ground bridge consol. And was that really an operational ground bridge? And, strangely enough, there was a platform similar to what the humans walked around on. The hall was down that way, and what seemed to be the entrance was curved exactly like the road into the secret base. 

Quirking his optic brow, Ratchet wandered over to what looked like the consol. With a tap, the screen burst to life and a multitude of cybertronian script flooded the screen. It was a garbled mess, though, and would take some time to reconfigure. And to do that, he had to know where he was. 

With a sigh, Ratchet tried to ping his teammates. There was no response.

"Well, it was a long-shot," the medic sighed. 

He peered down the curved entryway, a bit apprehensive of what he had to do. Whoever brought him here either didn't think of him as a threat, or were friendly. But it was strange, he mused as he took careful steps. If they were worried about his well-being, he should be on a berth, not on the floor. Unless, this was just a temporary location? Did they have to drag him here? He examined the floor, but it too was pristine. It was as if it had never been walked on at all. 

"Strange. Very strange," he muttered, if only to fill the silence. 

He quickened his pace now, anxious to find somebody, anybody, to give him answers. Like expected, he faced the entrance to the… base, he supposed. But his relief evaporated when he saw a figure sprawled before the entrance. He paused. When his optics adjusted and he could see through the darkness of the night, he realized the Cybertronian had collapsed. 

His medical instincts kicked in and he was kneeling beside the femme in no time. What he first noticed was the lack of paint. In fact, her body bore no sign of… anything. No insignia, no buff marks, no minute scratches, not even the wear of transformation, which is impossible for an adult. 

The second thing he noticed was her E.M. field. It was faint. Very faint. Not a good sign. It also pulsed erratically, like a new-spark's. Adult Cybertronians learned to keep their fields contained, not only for the sake of propriety, but as a way to hide from others during the war. It seemed as if this femme had no inclination to hide her signature, but it also wasn’t very strong. It was reminiscent of a sparkling’s E.M. field.

Even more cautious, Ratchet hesitated with the next step. His scans indicated that this femme was perfectly healthy. She also was full of energon and had what looked like a brand new body. So if there was nothing physically wrong with her it had to be processor damage. With a deep intake, Ratchet plugged into her medical port.

As expected, there were the waves of data and the rush of warnings flashing across his vision. Staying calm through eons of practice he sifted through the messages. It was confusing, as there were multitudes of repeats like  _ radiation _ ,  _ poison _ ,  _ dizzy _ , and what he could only determine as full-body pain from the hundreds of warnings that file alone provided. But it made no sense whatsoever. There was nothing in the area that could cause any significant radiation damage, there was no poison in the fuel lines, there wasn’t any markings on the femme’s helm that could indicate a concussion, and there was no seeming reason for the overwhelming pain. It was a complete and utter mystery to the medic. He was stumped. It  _ had  _ to be processor damage, but of what sort he didn’t know. And there was no way to find out without taking her to a medbay and running very lengthy tests. 

Disconnecting from her medical port, Ratchet gave himself a moment. This whole situation was confusing. He wakes up in a location that has startling similarities to the Omega One Base on Earth. But it clearly is not Earth, because all around him is cybermatter. He also seems to have been… reconfigured. His spark was as it always is, but his body seemed to have been reversed by several vorns. And even stranger, there was what seemed like a distressed new-spark, but in a brand-new adult frame. Nothing added up. 

Disturbed and distressed, Ratchet brought both servos to his face and sighed. He had to think. After a moment, he dropped his servos to his hips and looked up to the sky. It took him a moment to realize he was not looking at his home’s celestial sky. All of the constellations were wrong. But they were very familiar. Unbidden, coordinates came to the forefront of his processor. Coordinates for the groundbridge location on Earth. He froze, both body and processor.

No.

It couldn’t be.

That would be imposs-

A sick, heavy feeling settled in his spark. 

_ No. _

That couldn’t happen. Optimus could never have allowed it. The Omega Lock was to restore  _ Cybertron _ . It was  _ impossible _ for, for... for what? Earth to be  _ cyberformed? _ It sounded like a bad plot from one of the horror alien movies Miko liked to watch late at night. It  _ couldn't  _ happen.

But the stars continued to stare at him, neither criticizing for his lack of belief nor apologizing for their apparently poor location. They simply stayed where they were, marking their distance and trajectory exactly from his home planet, providing coordinates that he didn’t want to be at.

Slowly, he turned to the femme laying on the metallic ground. Who was she? Suddenly, he really had to find out. He tottered on ethics and propriety, but leaned towards his overwhelming desperateness. There  _ was _ a possible technique for this type of situation that could wake the patient. But it was largely untested. Processor damage was rare enough on Cybertron, but for a patient in as good of physical health as this femme was, it might be worth a shot to forceably wake her.

Ratchet knelt down and cradled her helm in one servo. Fear gripped his spark for a moment as he thought of the dangers of what he was about to do. For a sparkbeat he was about to let her rest on the ground in peace. But was leaving her in this state really any better? Anybody could find her, with her uncloaked field. She needed to regain control of herself, and bringing her to awareness would help her do that. 

Sending a prayer to Primus, he pulled two medical grade magnets from his subspace. Carefully, he placed one in the center of her forehead and the other on the back. Reviewing the calculations again, Ratchet then transformed a finger into a tiny arc welder. There were only a few types of this welder manufactured before the war, and Ratchet was one of the blessed few outfitted with one. It made a world of a difference in delicate procedures. With no further hesitance, he brought the tiny, humming spark close to the magnet. Immediately, the arc jumped to the magnet, and by the slight tingling sensation coming through his other servo, the electricity did manage to jump to the magnet on the other side. Immediately he stopped the discharge and carefully removed the magnets. He waited half a breem before he began the standard actions of waking a patient. Before he even made it through a quarter of the steps, the femme responded. A twitch of the lips, followed by a shudder of her whole frame.

Abandoning the wake-up protocols, Ratchet went straight to calling to her. “Femme. Femme, wake up.” Only those who knew Ratchet would have heard the slight waver of concern in his cold bark.

Optic brows furrowed in consternation and the lips trembled again. Ratchet frowned. The femme was waking up, but with her conciousness came the increased pressure of her E.M. field. That wasn’t good. Confusion and pain nearly bowled him over, but of greater concern was the complete and utter lack of cloaking. If there were any Decepticons in the area they would immediately pick up on it, not including Soundwave and his uncanny ability to trace even faint imprints of a ‘Bot.

“Femme. Femme, listen to me. You need to pull in your E.M. field. Any and every Decepticon in the area will pick up on it. Do you understand me? Pull in your E.M. field now.”

Ratchet’s authoritative tone seemed to fall on deaf audios. The waves of confusion only grew larger, but thankfully the pain seemed to recede at the same time. Slowly, the femme’s optics opened and Ratchet couldn’t help but wonder at their color. An indigo blue, a deeper, fuller color than an average Cybertronian optic blue, that reminded him of the evening skies of a planet he visited in another era. If this was still the Golden Age the femme would have undoubtly had a number of contracts with modeling agencies, and the sutiors to follow.

Instantly Ratchet shut down that line of thought. Returning to his gruff medical persona, he asked again, “Did you hear me? Cloak your E.M. field before someone finds us.”

“Ngh. ...Wha…” The femme croaked out, in human English, of all languages. It seemed she was having trouble speaking as her vocals fluctuated in pitch and volume. “What are... you saying, Ra-Ratchet?” 

Ratchet just barely prevented himself from flinching. She knew his name. He knew he was infamous across the galaxy, but most really didn’t know what he looked like. It was always Optimus that others recalled in such details. So how did a femme he never met before (he would have remembered those deeply colored optics, for sure), know him?

“You know me?” He hesitated to ask. The idea that this was a very elaborate trap crossed his mind, but the femme was too out of it to do anything, and he didn’t sense any others around. Not that that was a sure sign of safety.

“Of course I know you, Ratchet. I was on my way to the base to come see you when… when… when….” The femme almost seemed to smile before static-filled stutters ended her thoughts.

Ratchet was on instant high alert. An unknown Cybertronian was speaking familiarly with him,  _ and  _ as if she knew all about the secret base. Ratchet snapped his denta together and he pinned the femme with a hard stare. Trying to keep his tone neutral, he asked, “Femme, what is your name?”

This time, the femme gave him a very baffled look. Speaking slowly, she replied with words that shook the medic’s whole field of expertise.

“Ratchet. It’s me. I’m June. June Darby. How could you not recognize me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I said Romance was taking a rain check in this story, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like cashing in on the reactions. >:D


	3. I’m human

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ It’s been noted that the first generation of Earth’s Cybertronians suffer the highest preventable medical issues. Their consistent refusal for medical attention is legendary and brings up a number of ethical complications. Do we, as medical officers, proceed with an emergency diagnosis, much to the abjack horror of the patient, and run the risk of adding to their accumulated processor damage and lack of trust? Or do we let them be, stating, ‘it is their choice’, even unto the worst of suffering and death, all of which can be easily prevented? _

\- Excerpt taken from ColumnistQuestions, “Where is the line for medical overrides?”,  _ Rattlesnake Publications _

**Chapter 3: I’m human**

“Impossible,” Ratchet whispered. “How is it that you are June Darby? June… June is…”

The June in question frowned. Closing her eyes, she brought a hand to her head and snarked, “Well how is it that you’re Ratchet? Of course I’m June. Who else would I be?”

When she opened her eyes, she saw that Ratchet continued to stare at her dumbfounded. “What?” she asked warily. Then winced as another shooting pain shot through her brain. She blinked again, confused by what she saw. To fill Ratchet’s continued silence, she muttered, “I should probably go to the hospital. Whatever happened to me is affecting my vision. Probably some sort of brain damage. And if Fowler was right, radiation poisioni-”

She stopped mid-thought. Radiation? How on earth could she have gotten radiation poisoning? Unless… unless there was something at the former nuclear silo? Like some nuclear material that was never properly disposed of. She  _ knew _ she should have done an independent search of the base and not just trusted Fowler and the ‘Bots that the place was safe. How many hours had Jack spent there and been exposed to the stuff?

Immediately she went rigid.  _ Jack _ . She was looking for Jack. Snapping her eyes open, she pinned the Autobot Medic with a stare, trying to ignore the weird images in the corners of her vision. “The kids,” she demanded, “Where are the kids?”

Ratchet flinched as if he had just been slapped. Furrowing his brows, he quietly, almost tenderly, asked, “J-June… what’s the last thing you remember?”

June squinted, even more bothered by the flashing images. “Well, I remember being ticked off at you for just hanging up on me,” she retorted. “I know I can be overprotective sometimes, but Jack means the world to me. When I got the call from his work saying he didn’t show up, I got worried. I called him forty times, too! So where is he?”

June blinked again. She really needed to check-in at the hospital. The images were getting worse, so she missed the myriad of emotions that crossed the medic’s face. When he shifted, she felt her head gently lay down on the ground. She watched as he brought both his hands to his face and breathed deeply. He seemed to mutter something before he looked back down at her.

“What?” She asked again, more defensively. “What’s wrong, Ratchet? Did something happen to the kids?”

“I… do not know of the children, Ms. Darby.” He spoke slowly, hesitantly. “Right now I’m much more concerned about you.”

A deeper frown stretched across her face and she brought up a hand to rub her eyes. “Well, I’m not feeling too good. I really think I need to go to the hospital because I’m seeing things. Do you think it’s possible for you to give me a ride? My car broke down on the side of the road. And, well, you are an ambulance.” She huffed a laugh and looked back at said ambulance. Ratchet wasn’t laughing at her lame joke, though. Not that the surely medical officer would though.

“I really don’t think any human doctors can help you now,” Ratchet replied quietly. Was it just her or did it look like he was cringing?

“What? What do you mean, Ratchet?” She sharply asked for what seemed like the millionth time, but this time she reached out to touch him. But then she stopped.

Something was wrong.

Something was really wrong.

Her mind finally picked up on a few things that she should have noticed earlier. For one, it was dark out. Like really dark. June remembered driving home a few days ago and noticing that the moon was waning. But it was strange. She could still see fairly clearly. In fact, better than normal. Her vision wasn’t 20/20, but it also wasn’t the best either. But it was like she was outfitted with some new glasses.  _ Dark  _ vision glasses. She brought her hand to rub her eyes again but froze when they were right in front of her face.

It wasn’t her hand. Instead of worn, calloused skin there was curved, smooth metal. When she curled her fist, so did the metal hand. And when she stretched them out, the metal did exactly as she imagined. She felt her heart speed up and she breathed a short shaky breath. With a tremble she put her hand back down. Swallowing down her fear (Her mouth! Her mouth felt dry, but it had the oddest sweet metallic taste, her mind deduced), she propped herself up but didn’t get far before Ratchet was there trying to push her down.

Since when was Ratchet’s hand not able to cover her whole!? But she had seen enough. It was metal. Everything was metal. She knew Ratchet was speaking, but she couldn’t hear him through her panic.

“Ra-ra-Ratc-Ratchet. Ratchet. Ratchet-what’s-wha.. What’s going on? Ratchet?  _ Ratchet? _ ”

She didn’t know when she had latched onto him, her hands  _ oh-gosh-her-metal-hands _ were on his shoulders  _ big! She was too big! She shouldn’t be this big! _ and she was attempting to shake the Autobot.

Suddenly she was slapped and was sent reeling. Although she wasn’t hurt physically, she realized dully. There was no stinging against her cheek, but her mind was buzzing. Those flashing images were back but she couldn’t focus on them. The pressure from the mental slap intensified for a moment before it turned into what could only be described as a crushing hug. June felt tears roll down her cheeks and she focused on Ratchet.

He met her wide-eye stare with his own calm gaze. “June,” he said again, and she was instantly alert, “Are you going to panic again?”

She was trembling, she noticed. With another shaky breath, she answered honestly, “I- I don’t know. Ratchet, what happened to me? What’s going on?”

Her deep blue optics held his captive and he flinched. With a shake of his head, he replied, “I’m not sure. But for now, we need to get out of here. Can you stand?”

He rose from where he was kneeling and stretched out his hand to her. For a moment she just stared at it. Since when did the alien’s hand look… normal-sized?

“We really should go,” he pressed. “With that panic attack, your EM field flared outrageously, and I had to reveal my presence to calm you down. We have no time to lose.”

Unsure, but unwilling to test the medic’s patience, she took hold of his hand and tried pulling herself up. But it was hard. Her legs were stiff, like she had no energy in them. Ratchet frowned down at her, and she said meekly, “I can’t move my legs.”

His eyes widened and he knelt back down. “Of course,” he muttered as he brought out his wrist scanner. A bright light flashed across her and she jerked in surprise. “Don’t move,” he ordered. A second later he was done. “I should have figured with this being a new body, that you haven’t diverted your energon to all your lines yet.”

A somewhat hysterical laugh escaped her, and she cried, “Ratchet, I’m human! I don’t have energon. I have  _ blood _ .”

An arm wrapped around her shoulders and snaked under her legs and instinctively she wrapped her arms around Ratchet’s neck. He refused to look at her as he spoke, “I’m not entirely convinced that you are June Darby, but I know for a fact that you are a Cybertronian. There is nothing organic about this body.” His words weren’t intentionally cold, but June couldn’t help but shiver at their stiffness.

But she  _ was _ June Darby, she wanted to argue. She was a nurse at Jasper’s Community Hospital, and had to take time off work to track down her adventurous son. She was a single mom for over a decade but wouldn’t give up those years or memories for anything. She enjoyed reading romance novels in her spare time and watching sitcoms with her son. She couldn’t wait for the Fourth of July, as that was her next scheduled holiday off and she was already making plans to go to the mountains with her son. She liked tofu, though she knew Jack wasn’t a fan, and she loved getting a big bag of lemon drops for Christmas each year.

She was June Darby.

It was unfathomable that she could be anyone else.

She hadn’t noticed when Ratchet set her down on a bench until he walked away. It was then she felt cold and empty. Like someone tore a warm blanket off her. Fear gripped her heart for a moment and she crossed her arms across her chest. Before she knew it, Ratchet was infront of her again.

“Calm down,” he ordered, but there was no bite to it this time. “You need to learn to control your E- emotions. I’m not sure if this place still has the shielding tech I installed, but regardless others will come and investigate. And I don’t plan on losing you to the Decepticons as well.”

It was then she realized she hadn’t seen any other ‘Bot around. With a frown, she asked quietly, “The others?”

Ratchet sighed. “Unknown. They left for a mission off-world, but never reported in. And considering the state of things here, I suspect that their mission was not a success.”

“I’m- I’m sorry Ratchet,” June hesitated for a moment. The gruff medic portrayed a stony exterior, but June had met plenty of those types in the hospital. “You must be under a lot of stress right now.”

There was a moment of unreadable silence. At the same time he opened his mouth to respond, she rushed again. “Go. Do whatever you were about to do. I’m… well, I’m not better. I still have no idea what’s going on. But I am calmer. I… need some time.”

Ratchet gave her a long stare, then nodded slowly. “See if you can divert some energon to your pedes, er, feet. It will help if you can walk.”

June gave him a blank nod even though she wanted to laugh again. Humans had blood. They didn’t have to divert anything to get their body to work. When he left, again that calm feeling receded and panic began setting in. But when she saw him stop at the other side of the room, she waved him on. Then she clasped her hands, as if in prayer, and brought them up to her forehead.

_ Breath, June _ , she thought.  _ Don’t panic. Think. What’s the next step? _

Her feet. She couldn’t feel her feet. Slowly, she bent over to examine the metal legs. When her metal hand brushed her metal thigh she felt the touch though her fingers well enough, but the sensation seemed faint and dull from her leg. When she tried twisting her ankle there was only the faintest twitch. Well, Ratchet told her to… do whatever. It was a place to start, at least.

With several short huffs, she closed her eyes and concentrated. She wasn’t entirely sure what to think, but she tried. All she wanted was to  _ move _ and she tried recalling what that felt like. Falling back on her training, of the steps she would tell patients to try, the encouragement she would speak as she helped them hobble through their exercises, she gave herself the same peptalk. Slowly, she moved her hands down to one knee, and gently she brought it up to her chest. Taking in another breath, she held it there and focused on the feelings she  _ should _ have; the tension in her muscles, the slight burning as they were gently stretched and pulled. But that wasn’t what she felt. Instead, she felt solid, warm,  _ heavy _ metal in her hands. Underneath the thin plating, she could feel wires and gears and what-not, straining, and failing, to move. Immediately she dropped her- the leg. She could feel that panic coming back and she clutched her head tightly.

This was wrong.

This was all so very,  _ very wrong! _

Squeezing her eyes tight, she tried thinking of something, anything, other than this bizarre situation she was in. But it didn’t help. All her thoughts returned to Jack. Worry didn’t even begin to describe the fear she felt for her only child. Where was he? What was he doing? Was he worried about her?

Faintly, she wondered if this was just a dream. Maybe the car crash was a lot worse than she thought, and she really was in the hospital right now? But she had never dreamed this vividly before. There was none of that hazy lucidness that came from a dreamworld. And she honestly felt fine, minus the fact that she couldn’t move her legs and a slight headache.

But, maybe she was paralyzed? Maybe this was her mind telling her that she was actually critically damaged, especially on her lower half? So what was she supposed to do? Ratchet told her to try and learn how to walk, and she really didn’t want to be on the wrong side of the grumpy scientist’s attitude, dream one or not.

Seriously, though? Diverting energy-energon- _ whatever _ just so she can walk? That seemed like a ridiculous requisite,  _ brain _ , for her to be an active participant in her own dream.

Footsteps against metal broke her out of her thoughts, and June looked up to see Ratchet coming around the corner carrying a variety of things. He walked over and paused next to her, carefully laying each item down on a table next to her. He said nothing as he worked though, and June would have been content with that, if not for the confliction inside her.

Ratchet finally paused in twisting two pieces of something together and sighed. With a sideways glance, he asked, “What is it… June? The pressure from your EM field is telling me that you have questions.”

“EM field?” She raised her eyebrows, as she recognized the term, but couldn’t remember what it was. Then she shook her head. That wasn’t what she wanted to ask. Bringing her gaze down to her metal hands, she grew quiet. It was several minutes before she finally spoke up. By that time, Ratchet had returned to doing whatever it was he was doing.

“R-Ratchet. Is… Will you be honest with me?”

That gave the medic pause. Putting down the tools, he then knelt before her again, and folded his hands over hers. “I am always honest, June. It’s what gave me a reputation as an obstinate medic, as I never hid the truth from any of my patients, no matter how much a white lie would seem to help.”

June continued to give him a long, questioning stare, trying to judge whether this Ratchet, real or not, was being honest. But as the Autobot spoke she felt that pressure again. It was calm and…  _ straightforward _ . It was like she could  _ feel _ the emotions of the other being.

Ratchet nodded, as if he understood her. “EM field. It’s one way Cybertronians express themselves.”

Pressing her lips together, she frowned. “Ratchet.” Her hands trembled, and she felt a light squeeze from him. Oh, gosh, he was watching her so intently, like she was a scared, injured kid. “Is… Is this a dream Ratchet?”

“Cybertronians don’t dream.” Came his flat reply.

“But humans do,” she shot back. “And as far as I’m concerned, I’m still human despite… this!” She tugged a hand away to gesture at the metal body she somehow controlled. Well, sort of controlled. She still couldn’t feel her feet very well.

Ratchet took that as his que to stand up, and he pinned her with a hard, unwavering stare. With crossed arms he stated bluntly, “This is reality, June. That body there,” and he pointed directly at her, “is fully Cybertronian, right down to it’s spark. We are still on Earth, though it somehow underwent major alterations, as my scans show it’s nothing but cybermatter for more than a hundred miles in every direction. My inability to contact Optimus, or anyone else on the team has led me to conclude that their mission somehow failed on Cybertron, and that this is Megatron’s doing. How he is able to convert organic material into cyber is unknown. But you said you were on your way to the base? That was the last thing you remember?”

Stunned by his commentary, June could only nod meekly. She furrowed her brows as a memory came back.

“I- I remember something. Like a really bright light. ...And trying to get away from it. But are you  _ sure _ this is reality? That I didn’t hit my head or something?”

“I am sure.”

The medic continued to stare at her apprehensively. June tried swallowing, but was startled by the fact that she had no saliva in her mouth. Bringing both hands to her lips, she shuddered. After another moment, she spoke in what she thought was a surprisingly steady voice, “So what… I’m a-a cybertronian now? But I still feel so  _ human _ .”

Ratchet’s eyes seemed to soften. “Well, there is evidence that humans and cybertronians are closely linked. We are not robots, you know,” he huffed lightly.

June again looked down at her hands, her  _ metal _ hands, and scoffed, “Seriously? Earth is terraformed? Like from one of Miko’s B-rated horror films? How is that possible?”

“Cyberformed, not terraformed,” Ratchet corrected as he returned to his tools. “I have a theory. Optimus went to Cybertron because we had discovered a device capable of restoring our home planet. Something called the Omega Lock. I don’t know exactly what it is or how it does what it does, but it’s safe to assume that it contains a vast amount of cybermatter and energon if it is meant to restore Cybertron. And Optimus would have used it for that exact purpose. Only Megatron would have turned a relic of creation into a weapon of destruction.”

June jumped at the clang of a tool dropped carelessly on the table. Even more surprising, she could  _ feel _ the anger coming from Ratchet in waves. It suddenly cut off as Ratchet straightened. 

“My apologies,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t expose my EM field to you like that.”

“It’s…” her words died in her throat. What was she supposed to say;  _ it’s OK? _ What about this was OK? She still wasn’t entirely convinced this wasn’t a dream, but even in her dreams she would never curse the Autobots with this unknown fate. And being exposed to the raw emotions of another person felt… intimate. Like she was getting a front row seat to his innermost thoughts. No wonder Ratchet kept telling her to pull in her own EM field. How much of her raging, confused, helplessness had he picked up on and felt vicariously? Embarrassing was one way to put it. Absolutely mortifying was a more accurate description. Promptly she clamped down on her emotions. Locking them up and throwing away the key, if that’s what she had to do.

Ratchet turned his head back to her, a question on his face. “Hmmm, so you figured out how to pull in your EM field. Good.”

June merely nodded her head once, unsure if she was supposed to respond at all. The medic returned to his work, but said, “Just keep in mind that we  _ do _ have emotions. Hiding your signature is not the same as cutting yourself off completely. But what you’re doing is a start.”

June trembled, and wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. Quietly she stated, “I don’t want this to be reality. I still can’t believe that this is happening.”

“I as well,” the Autobot sighed as he moved away from the table. As he passed her, he again advised, “Can you figure out how to divert your energon? You really need to learn to walk.”

With a frown she huffed, “You said humans and cybertronians were similar. But this experience is teaching me how different we truly are. Our biological systems are… automatized, unconscious. Things just work without having to explicitly think it through.”

Ratchet reached the console and began typing away at the screen. “But do you not have a saying ‘learn to walk before you can run’? I will not pretend to have a perfect understanding of human functions, but from what I’ve learned, human bitlits have trouble controlling their bodies and sustain any number of injuries as they grow.”

“That’s true,” June closed her eyes again, “Children lack the motor skills that adults have. But their lungs and hearts still work without having to think about it.”

“A difference in our physiologies, I suppose. Cybertronians have to concentrate on directing energon flow, but as soon as our lines have sufficient energy, we have full control over our forms. But we also have unconscious processes, such as our sparkbeat or sensory adaptors, like our optics.”

The room was quiet for a few minutes as both fell into their own thoughts. June tried not to let her irritation leak through, but how one earth was she supposed to get her… energon to flow where it was supposed to? It was not like blood. Not at all. So if it wasn’t blood, what was it? How was she supposed to control a vicious substance inside herself?

With a tisk, she finally caved and asked, “OK, changing the subject, but what is the stuff at the edges of my vision? Like, the annoying pop-ups?”

Ratchet paused in his typing. “You mean the alerts?”

“Yeah, I guess,” June waved her hands in a brief gesture as if to try and grab them out of the air.

“What do they say?” Ratchet asked with a hint of concern as he stepped away from the console.

June squinted her eyes, then shook her head, “Don’t know. It’s not in English.”

Ratchet frowned. “It hadn’t occurred to me that your systems would be anything but Cybertronian, but I forgot you don’t know it.” He hesitated in front of her, before pulling something from his wrist. June looked down at it and her frown deepened. At her unspoken question, he explained, “If I may, I need to plug into your medical port so I can see what alerts you are having.”

“Medical port? Plug in? What the heck?” Her voice rose in octave with each question and she gave the medic a sharp glare.

Ratchet just sighed and tilted his neck. Pointing at a specific spot, he said, “A medical port. It… All cybertronians have one. You can think of it like a human’s spinal cortex, where the person’s nerves are centered and all information about the body is passed through, whether consciously or unconsciously. As a qualified medic, I have the means to plug into this information center painlessly and essentially get a first person view of what is happening to your body.”

“Huh, sounds useful. I can’t tell you how many times I wish I knew what it was my patients were really feeling, instead of them just having to explain it, so I could patch them up better.”

“It certainly does make diagnosis easier, but it’s not a sure thing. May I?”

June looked at the cord, and sighed. “Yeah, whatever. You’ll have a better idea of what’s going on than I ever will.”

With a solemn nod Ratchet approached and June pushed down her apprehension when his hand brushed against her neck. With a soft click, the wire attached and June  _ felt _ her delusions shatter.

This was something her mind could  _ never _ conjure on its own. Never in a million years.  _ Never _ . 

June jerked in surprise and she felt literal walls come crashing down over her mind. No. It couldn’t be possible. How could someone just…  _ plug into her freaking mind!? _

That presence invading her mind immediately stopped, and she could  _ feel _ the hesitation coming from  _ the other. _ It was too alien. Her human part reviled against the sudden invasion of a  _ whole nother person _ just waltzing into what was sacred and intimate. NO ONE should be able to look at her this way. This was far worse than being exposed totally nude during the Superbowl. All her thoughts and feelings and desires,  _ her very being _ was on display.

**_And it was wrong._ **

“June,” Ratchet spoke quietly, though she wasn’t sure if it was more physical than it was some sort of mental connection. “You need to let down your firewalls. I can’t move forward if they’re up.”

_ NO. _

That was a big, fat,  _ No. _

“Very well then,” Ratchet said just as quietly as his presence moved away. She hadn’t realized she said that outloud.

“You didn’t say it outloud, but I’ve been a medic long enough to know when a patient does not want my help.” Again, his voice wasn’t  _ cold _ , but it was impassive and factual. As if he didn’t want to be bothered by a patient’s denial.

“What. The. Hell.” June swore. She never swore. It was uncouth and unnecessary. But right now, she thought it was  _ very  _ necessary. She slapped a hand over her neck and shuddered.

“You just- Is that seriously normal!?” She exploded. Ratchet wisely stepped several steps away as her EM field raged. 

“As a medic, it is a procedure we go through quite often. But ‘normal’ as in it happens on a consistent basis, the answer is no.”

“What the hell,” she swore again. “You just… plugged into my mind! You could see  _ everything! _ ”

“Not everything,” Ratchet sharply corrected. “A proper medic should never abuse that access. We only look at the problems the body has at the moment. We never delve into the person’s personal-”

“Well it felt  _ way beyond _ personal to me!” June shrieked. Suddenly she hunched over and convulsed. 

Ever concerned, Ratchet moved to help, but June pressed herself against the wall in fear, instead.

“No!” she shouted. “No. No thank you! Nope, nope, no. I just… Ra- I, I, I-” She didn’t know at what point she started crying, but liquid spilled from her eyes onto her hands and ran in rivulets down her metal cheeks.

“I’m human,” she moaned. “I’m a human. I’m June. June Darby. And I’m a human.”

“June,” Ratchet whispered right next to her. She didn’t know when he came close, but she didn’t care at this point because she completely ignored him.

“I’m a human,” she whispered.

“Go into recharge, June. You need it.”

Recharge? What the heck was that? But she was tired. Exhausted. She needed sleep. So she slept with a soft, comforting blanket wrapping all around her.


	4. Right to Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all so much for your support! All the lovely comments and wonderful reviews really make my day and truly motivate me to keep on writing. So thank you for each and every like, kudos, fave, and follow! You’re awesome!  
> We’re finally getting to the crux of the story and it’s got me excited! I’ve spent a lot of time stressing over this chapter, but figured it was good enough. I don’t want to keep you lovely readers waiting. So let’s get to it~!

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ I don’t know why Megatron kept me alive. That is the one question I’ve never gotten answered. He once mentioned it was on impulse but never expounded on it. Eventually, I’ve just stopped wondering. The why doesn’t really matter now.  _ **_What does_ ** _ is what came of it and that is; the survival of humanity.  _

\- Live interview with the Trinity Head, Jackson, with Anchor April O'Neil, ETVNews

**Chapter 4: Right to life**

Megatron was pleased. His nemesis was dead and gone, and with him the rest of the Autobot forces crumbled. If not now, then soon. And he was in possession of a resource to rule not just one planet, but many. His fingers stroked the edge of an Omega Key. How fortuitous it was for this gift to fall into his servos. Everything was finally right with the universe.

A self satisfied smile crossed his face as he gazed up at the glowing world above him. It was about time. Deftly, his fingers moved across the control panel and a moment later the Omega Lock fizzled out. A few seconds after the light show ended, the space bridge closed. Barely a spark-beat later, Starscream stepped through another, along with a whole platoon of drones. 

As formality dictated, Megatron stated his intentions, though they were already known by the second-in-command. “Guard the Omega Lock with your life, Starscream. It cannot fall into any other servos.”

“Yes, my liege,” the traitorous SIC bowed graciously. 

To be sure, Megatron took out all of the keys and pocketed them in his subspace. As he walked past Starscream he lowly uttered without even looking at him, “ _ Do not _ fail in this simple task. I will not allow anything to be taken from me at this point. Do you understand?”

“Clearly, my Lord.”

Megatron didn’t see the flutter of the seeker’s wings, but he could imagine it perfectly. Especially when their EM fields brushed against each other; his, absolute and domineering, and Starscream’s quiet and submissive. Good. He might get some use out of the strutless mech,  _ finally _ .

Gallantly, he strode through the space bridge onto his ship. Immediately he pinged Soundwave. “Soundwave, set course for Earth’s orbit. I want to see the results for myself.”

There was no reply, but with the shifting of the  _ Nemisis _ , he knew Soundwave was following orders. He smiled. It would take a megacycle before they arrived and there was something he wanted to do before going to the bridge. After receiving an answer to his question, Megatron headed down a hallway, completely ignoring the drones that bowed as he passed by. It was less than a bream later that he stood before one of the unused laboratories located close to Knockout’s medbay. It’s where the human sparklings were being kept.

When Megatron stepped through the door his sights immediately fell upon the oldest one. The one that turned his back to him in the collapsed mine. The one that restored the Matrix to Optimus. Megatron bared his denta; in a grin or a grimace, it didn’t matter. Something about the boy reminded him too much of Orion. And that was dangerous.

Orion Pax was an idealist. He acquired megabytes of facts and history as an archivist that led to some of the most inspiring conclusions. And though a quiet, unremarkable mech, Megatron had  _ seen _ the potential. Had felt a remarkable kinship with the Iaconian. They both had great visions to change Cybertron. It was a pity that only one could rise to the top.

Megatron paused a few steps away. The humans didn't react to his presence. That was fine. He would wake them when needed, but for now he would ponder his next step. It was on impulse that he kept them alive. He had all intentions disposing of them when their usefulness as bargaining chips were over, but the audacity of that one human, mixed with his upfront honesty, made for a refreshing change of pace. Though he had just seen his heroes die and was quite powerless himself, the boy managed to stoke an inner fire hot enough to dare to order the High Lord about. Obviously he had to extinguish that flame mercilessly, but the boy’s response was unexpected; A forthright acceptance of his fate. Megatron witnessed the little human calm down, almost as if he were going into stasis lock. But his mind was clear, that much Megatron could tell from the final, broken, heartfelt answer. 

The Tyrant knew he was a tyrant. Over the eons he had to make some of the cruelest decisions to get to where he was today; that is to say, victorious. With that burden of leadership, other parts of himself had to be let go, chiefly his ethics and emotions. But that didn’t mean he was completely void of them. When he spoke with the sparkling he recognized the attributes of a noble warrior. He had seen and faced plenty of them; in the pits as determined gladiators, in his own legions as desperate individuals fighting for change, as resilient Autobots so sure of their own cause. There was something to be admired about that kind of spirit, but most of them fell to the wayside. So perhaps that was why Megatron acted on his impulse. To find such spirit in an inferior being drew his curiosity. It made him wonder, after all the warriors he had known, how long this little organic would last.

A part of him dismissed the idea. It was a fool’s errand, a waste of time. But a deeper part of him rose up in rebellion. He had just killed Prime, he was conquering Earth, but there was  _ still  _ this spark of defiance, no matter how weak, that irritated him. He remembered all too clearly the look the boy had given him deep underground. The tiny huff of breath that came from his lips as he turned away from the chance to end it all.

_ Morals _ , Megatron thought.  _ And the self-awareness to go with it. _ A deadly combination, one that was essential to the formation of Optimus Prime. One that he had almost harnessed for himself before the days of war. One, that if given the chance, he  _ would _ have again.

With a smile, Megatron crossed the distance to the table. When he was close the human stirred. And when he dropped two of the keys in front of the glass, the human jerked awake so forcefully he managed to unbalance the tube. With a flick of his wrist, Megatron caught it but he didn’t immediately set it upright. He watched as the sparkling tried to orient himself but kept sliding against the glass. Once he had sunk to his knees, Megatron righted the prison. There was a small grunt of pain from the creature, but nothing more. 

The boy looked up with that fire again in his eyes. Megatron thought he would immediately start barking again, but it only grimaced and brought his servos to his lips and blew. Still though, it glared. The silence lasted for less than a klick before the Decepticon leader decided enough was enough.

“You’re angry at me.” It was a statement of fact, nothing more. But it got him the reaction he wanted.

“No duh, Sherlock!” The boy spat. He folded his arms across his chest as he sat down properly, and brought his legs closer.

Megatron wasn’t too familiar with the human nuances to understand exactly what the boy said, but he could comprehend their meaning. Before he could decide on the proper punishment the organic continued to hiss.

“What do you want, Megatron? What else could you possibly want? You’ve already killed Optimus Prime. You’ve destroyed my world.  _ What else _ could you possibly do to make this worse?”

The ‘Con allowed a smile to grace his lips, making sure to show his sharp, pointed denta. “Plenty,” he replied casually. “Though I feel the need to inform you that only a small part of your home world has been cyberformed. Even with a relic as powerful as the Omega Lock, something like this still takes time.”

“Humans are still alive?”

Megatron did not miss the hope in the boy’s voice.

“For now,” the Tyrant let that hang in the air between them, before he shifted the conversation. “Call it idle curiosity, but I do wonder why Optimus chose a  _ human _ ,” he sneered, “to hold the key to Vector Sigma.”

Pointedly, he tapped the Omega Keys with a single claw. The boy’s eyes were drawn to them and his shoulders shuddered. No doubt he recalled the price for his temporary freedom.

“I don’t know,” the organic’s voice was flat. “I asked him, of course, but all he said was that he was right to believe that I was worthy of the mission he entrusted to me. He would never explain-” The boy abruptly cut himself off when his voice wavered and broke. He didn’t seem inclined to continue speaking.

“Optimus always did think the best of people,” Megatron scoffed.

The boy mumbled as his head drooped forward. Irritated, Megatron tapped the glass sharply. “Speak up. I won’t tell you again.”

The human started, then ground his jaw. With a tired glare, he sighed, “It’s not a bad thing, you know, to believe in someone.”

“Oh? Like you believed in Optimus to bring you home safely? Where did that belief get you?” Again, Megatron lightly tapped the glass in a slow, intimidating manner.

The boy wrapped his arms tighter around himself, his hands moving slowly across his arms. Eventually he spoke, “I wasn’t wrong. Optimus tried helping people. He was kind. And he tried stopping you, a tyrant.  _ Of course _ I would believe in Optimus Prime.”

“Even though he was a false Prime?” Megatron asked more harshly than he intended. “Even though he was created to ‘help’ the most selfish, self-serving beings in the universe? Even though he went back on his word to help me change Cybertron for the better?”

The sparkling dared to narrow his eyes and spat back, “How is destroying your world ‘for the better’? How is destroying  _ my _ world supposed to be better than what Optimus tried to do? He tried  _ saving it. From you! _ ”

“He was willing to sacrifice the chance to restore  _ his  _ home world to save some insignificant insects. Tell me,  _ boy _ , is that the action a noble leader of his people should take? Willing to let his own species go  _ extinct _ , to save some pitiful lifeforms?”

Still, the human didn’t back down. In fact, he seemed to grow bolder the more Megatron spoke with him.

“Optimus believed that all sentient beings have a right to life. To choose for themselves.”

“Clearly he didn’t believe that, or else he wouldn’t have sent the Allspark to Primus knows where.” There was no explaining the depth of the wicked current of emotions that shot through the mech as he thought of that ultimate betrayal.

Furrowing his brows, the human asked, “Allspark? I’ve heard the Autobots reference it, but what do you mean Optimus... sent it?”

“The Allspark is the source of all energon and power on Cybertron. The Allspark is what bestows life to a Cybertronian.” Megatron growled out, “Do you understand what that means, insect?”

The organic merely narrowed his eyes. With a  _ tch _ , Megatron forcefully grabbed the glass tube and tilted it as he leaned over the table. The sparkling scrambled for purchase in his shifting prison, but dared to glare at the Decepticon Lord. Unfazed, Megatron explained in a low tone: 

“During the war on Cybertron Optimus sent the Allspark out to space, effectively killing his home! No more life came to be. No more energon flowed. I, myself, could not have devised a better plan to end all life on Cybertron than that,  _ if  _ that was my goal.”

The human jerked his head as if buffeted by a punch. He again scowled and seemed ready to spit back a response, but Megatron continued his forceful lecture.

“From there the war escalated. It _changed_. Arguments were no longer about politics, but battles were fought for the _right to live!_ The lines became blurred because now _everyone_ was in danger. People grew desperate to horde their energon supplies just so that they could _live_ _another sol._ It’s how energon can be found on organic planets like Earth.” Megatron reveled in the satisfaction he got as he watched the human’s blue optics widen with his explanation. 

But he wasn’t done. With a superior note of finality, he seethed, “Is that what you would call a ‘ _ right to life’? _ A right to ‘ _ choose’? _ Those that had steadfastly stayed neutral throughout the conflict had to then take up arms because if they didn’t, they would surely die. Optimus doomed us all with  _ his  _ choice. And he was about to do so again. This time, though, I stopped him.”

The small room vibrated with Megatron’s sanctimonious declaration. The human below him stared, with its face equal parts horrified and disbelieving. It opened its intake several times, as if to dispute the truth, but it never said anything. Feeling that the conversation was over, Megatron set the cage back down and dropped a servo to the Omega Keys.

Stroking one delicately, he mused, “Which is why I suppose I should thank you, dear Jackson.” The Decepticon did not miss the violent flinch the organic made when he said it’s designation. He allowed himself to smile. “Because of you I was able to gain two of the Omega Keys. You have done Cybertron a great service.”

Finished with his mocking, Megatron stepped away from the table, leaving the two keys to sit before the frozen organic. That had gone better than he planned. With an easy gait, he walked out the door. And with a wicked grin he finally settled on what he was going to do with the human. Now, he needed to speak with Soundwave to prepare the arrangements.

* * *

It was a short bream later that Megatron was on the bridge staring at the projection of Earth below. With his servos clasped behind his back, he slightly turned to his third-in-command, and oldest friend.

“It does my spark good to see this, Soundwave. We’ve made the most progress to our cause in the past solar cycle than we have in vorns. And we will continue to do so. Tell me, what have your scans provided so far?”

The silent mech gave a slight bow, then his face mask flickered with charts and data, all of which Megatron was easily able to comprehend in the klicks that ticked by. When finished, Megatron turned back to the cyberformed earth with a frown. 

“Hmmm… The process isn’t as thorough as I thought it would be. It will take longer to fully transform this planet than I thought.”

The bridge fell to silence as the leader sunk into his thoughts. Soundwave patiently stood by. In time, Megatron nodded to himself, then spoke.

“What do you honestly think of humans, Soundwave?”

A number of images from the human internet flashed across the visor. Evolutionary sketches, paintings of mythology, photos of cityscapes, celebrities, and crime sped by all to abruptly end with a dramatic photo of one of Earth’s native insects, a cockroach, being stepped on by a boot.

“Cybertronians: Superior. Humans: Inferior.” He added, as if the slideshow wasn’t enough.

Megatron smirked. “We all know that, Soundwave,” he chidded. “But do you believe that they have any use?”

Soundwave was quiet. Quieter than usual, as his visor showed nothing. After a long moment he showed the image of the three children he had taken overlaid with a question mark.

“It does,” Megatron asked with a flicker of optics. It was safe to answer his TIC in this, as he knew Soundwave had no ulterior motives other than the restoration of Cybertron and Megatron’s own rule.

The former rival nodded his head in understanding. A moment later the image zoomed in on the smallest of the three humans. Then the sketch of human evolution appeared again along with an overlay of groundbrigde calculations. It then returned to the scared child.

“So you  _ are _ interested in that one. Can’t say I’m surprised,” Megatron stated in satisfaction. Before he could turn away, Soundwave shifted the focus of his visor on the eldest sparkling. Megatron froze. Then frowned. Soundwave then showed images of Primes, the last of which was Optimus, just before the Matrix was restored to him.

In a careful tone, the Lord of Decepticons replied, “He has piqued my interest. Optimus considered him an Honorary Prime, and we know the scraplet successfully completed his mission. But more than that, I can see some of the old Orion in him.”

Immediately, insulting Cybertronian glyphs flashed across the visor in red and Megatron felt Soundwave’s EM ripple in displeasure.

“Older, my friend. Like in the early days of our friendship. The one we both desired to return to us.”

Soundwave became quiet. Megatron waited, knowing there would be a response eventually so his gaze returned to Earth. It truly was a magnificent sight. From here he could see the beautiful line of cybermatter clashing against the ugly desert’s brown dirt. The champion felt a surge of pride swell within him.  _ He  _ had done this. He had finally succeeded in overthrowing the last corruption of Cybertron and was in the midst of building a new world. Only The Thirteen could boast as much.

A hesitant, but respectful, probing brushed his EM field, and Megatron looked over at Soundwave. With a slight nod of his head, Soundwave began. His own voice spoke to him, “I can see some of the old Orion in him.” A wave of apprehension flowed over his field as next a video appeared. A documentary of Orion’s passionate speech before the Council. It cut off to Soundwave’s conclusion: “Dangerous.”

“Not unfounded fears,” Megatron carefully began. “But who will he convince?”

Images of human cities popped up, along with a population counter. Next came the medical reports of Scorponok from four years ago, and the current threat levels of both N.E.S.T. and M.E.C.H. forces.

“I plan on decimating their numbers before any such threat arises.” Megatron stated in cold fury. “Anyone left will be brought to heel.”

Soundwave tilted his head. Starscream’s spiteful voice came through next, “Autobots and their pets-pets-pets.” His voice took on a squeaky quality as the noun in question was remixed.

A wicked grin appeared on Megatron’s face. “I see no reason to not pick up a hobby, now that our goals have been realized. The Honorary Prime will learn his place, and I look forward to training him. I am of the belief that he could be quite useful in the future.”

The communications officer was silent for a moment, then an image of a weak-looking Chihuahua popped up on his visor. Megatron scoffed. “Something more regal. I  _ am _ the ruler of two worlds now.”

A picture of an alert German Shepard instantly replaced it. Megatron thought about it, then nodded his head. “Better,” he simply stated. He turned back to the widescreen of Earth. “Contact Ravage. Have him escort some of our human operatives onto the ship. A human medic included. I recognize that we lack the means to properly care for our pets and I don’t want them to die prematurely.”

Soundwave nodded. Just before he turned to go, an alert popped up on his visor that caught both of them by surprise. Soundwave twitched as if a glitch mouse ran across his pedes, then he stomped over to a consol. On the other servo, Megatron stayed still and quiet, but rose an optic brow in question. He didn’t interrupt his TIC’s work, but he was anxious to know what it was that the scanners found. Several klicks later, Soundwave turned around to give his report. Curiosity, slight confusion, and apprehension filled his EM field as he stated, “Unknown signature discovered. Recommendation: Investigate.”

Megatron frowned. The location of the unknown signature was at the Autobot base. The only unaccounted for Autobots on Earth were Smokescreen, Ratchet, and Wheeljack. One was likely still on Cybertron wasting away. The medic’s signature was too well-known. And the last may not have been in the system anymore, according to what his file implied about the mech.

“Very well,” Megatron agreed. “Set course for the Autobot base. It’s time we smoked out the last of them on this planet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I love Soundwave and Megatron. They really are my favorite ‘Cons and I’ll be exploring their characters and backstories eventually, so look forward to that. I particularly love how Soundwave communicates, as I have to think creatively compared to he said/ she said dialogue. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.  
> Until next time, stay safe and stay healthy! ~TFC


	5. Move Along

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ "It is as mankind has suspected: We are not alone in the universe. ... I solemnly proclaim to you, aliens from another world, that mankind will not simply stand by and let this atrocity go without due recompense!" _

_ \- POTUS's Last Stand _ , from the Confiscated Archives

**Chapter 5: Move Along**

_ Curse my life _ , William Lennox thought as he stomped over to the coffee pot. This was a freaking nightmare. And he had absolutely no idea what to do.

Twelve hours ago they got startled reports of a, what was it? A freaking  _ beam of light _ with energy readings off the charts out in the middle of Nevada. Close to the Omega One Autobot base. And those that were sent to the location had failed to report in soon after heading out. Lennox didn’t want to risk more lives, so they had to sit back and watch as Nevada was… changed. It was all they could do to evacuate as many people as they did. 

But it wasn’t enough.

His hand shook as he gripped the coffee pot, causing some to slosh on his other hand. With a swear he hoped Annabell never learned, he practically threw the pot back to it’s stand and the cup on the counter as he reached for a handful of paper towels. Tossing the wet bundle away, he marched out of the room with only half a cup of liquid power to boost him.

Immediately he was assaulted by a wide-eyed private carrying a tablet. “S-sir, we have another development.”

“What is it?” He asked tiredly. Twenty hours. He was pushing twenty hours from when he last slept.

“Satellites picked up an alien ship descending to Earth. Right over Nevada.”

Lennox stared at the images on the tablet. It took him longer than it should have to recognize those sharp points and the sleek design. He swore again. “It’s the  _ Nemesis. _ ” He took off down the hall, heading straight for the command center.

“Ar-are you sure?” The private stuttered as he tried to keep pace.

“I’d recognize it anywhere,” he snapped. Even though he slammed the door open nobody reacted. They were all neck deep in their own work to notice one more thing going on. Displayed on the giant screens on the opposite wall was live feed of the ship from one of their satellites. Lennox glared at it.

“Megatron,” he growled.

“Yes, no doubt,” Simmons twitched beside him. The soldier spared him half a glance and scoffed. The agent seemed more excited about seeing the alien craft than worried. There was certainly a screw loose in that one.

“Lieutenant Colonel, incoming call coming from Washington, Sir!” Someone shouted out and Lennox turned heel. He was at the screen in no time. 

Snapping off a smart salute, he said, “General Bryce. Have you been briefed on the latest?” 

The general looked how he felt. Lennox swore there was another inch of white in the man’s thinning hair, and deep circles encomapsed his eyes, making them look hollow. “Yes,” was his curt reply. “POTUS is about to make a statement to the press about what’s transpired. The media is in an uproar. People are scared, Lennox. It’s of the opinion that since we have the  _ Nemesis _ in sight, and that there seems to be no life in what was formerly Nevada and its surroundings, we proceed with Operation Firepower.”

The Lieutenant Major was trained enough to not show it, but a quiver of fear shot through him. With a deep breath he replied, “Not that I don’t want to strike back at the bastard, sir, but are the higher ups truly informed on the kind of forces we’re up against? The  _ Nemesis _ is a vessel meant for deep space. It might withstand a nuclear strike. And that’s not including whatever hijinks the ‘Cons came up with now.”

“We’re out of options. If we have an opportunity to act, the President and Defense Secretary want us to act. The orders have been sent. The warheads are already being prepped. Prepare your division for the possible fallout.”

“Yes, sir.” Lennox barely got his reply out before the connection was cut. He spared himself a moment to squeeze his eyes tight. He needed a moment. General Bryce’s call was just a formality. This was obviously above his pay grade, making a decision like this, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the  _ wrong _ decision. Considering that Megatron started with the Autobot base, instead of any other military location, told him that the alien warlord was confident enough to not worry about humans. And he didn’t bother shielding his warship, either, like he was baiting them. They couldn’t make contact with Optimus, which was the most troublesome. A sick, rotten feeling settled deep in his gut, and he squeezed the mug tighter in his hand. It was then he realized it was too quiet.

Snapping his eyes open he glared at the officers openly staring at him and the screen behind him. “You heard him,” he snapped. “Get to work! I want all the jets fired up and ready to go as soon as the missiles are fired. Make sure all the pilots are wearing the appropriate radiation protection. I want the rest of the personnel in full gear. We may be needed on the mainland.”

A chorus of “Yes, sir.” sounded out, and the place returned to it’s organized chaos as orders were filtered down.

Lennox rubbed his eyes. “Damn,” he quietly muttered as he swirled the black coffee. Tipping the last of it down his throat, he grimaced. The coffee really sucked out in the middle of the pacific. What he wouldn’t give for his wife’s special blend. Thinking about Sarah made his heart twinge in the most painful of ways.

She was fine. She and Annabell would be fine. They were on the other side of the states, far from whatever potential fallout might happen. They were fine.

William Lennox gripped the mug even tighter.

* * *

A low whistle escaped Wheeljack as he flew over the former desert. He couldn’t exactly believe what he was seeing. It had been several breams since he last saw anything organic. His wrecker buddies would never believe him if he told them this was an organic planet. Heck, he couldn’t believe it! It was like he was back flying over Cybertron.

“What in the pits happened, Bulkhead?” He muttered.

Several more blips showed up on his screen, but he ignored them. Whatever was giving off those energy signals could wait. He needed to get to the Autobot base. If there were any Autobots left, they would be there. Or, at the least, it was a place to start. He pushed his ship to go a little faster. The anxiety was building up in his struts and he didn’t like it one bit.

He circled the base before he landed outside the entrance. Whatever signature he had picked up just outside the nuclear silo had disappeared. Not taking any chances, he loaded up on several extra grenades, before he opened the hatch. With the swords at the ready, he stepped down.

Primus, it really  _ was _ cybermatter. His pedes sank into the tiny grains. The matter wasn’t as annoying as earth sand, for whatever reason, but he was perfectly fine with that. After several quick scans of the area he deemed it safe enough to continue toward the entrance.

It was dark and gloomy. There didn’t seem to be any life, until he heard the slight clanging of pedes against the ground. Quietly, he crept forward. It slowly became lighter and he discovered that it came from datascreens.

A smirk crossed his face and he put away his swords. “So your spark’s still kick’n it, Docbot?”

Before he even finished his sarcastic comment, Ratchet had turned around, engaged his blades, and taken two rushed steps forward before coming to a halt.

“Wheeljack,” the medic stated. It was calm and blunt, but the wrecker didn’t miss the flicker of relief from the other’s EM field.

“‘Sup?” he asked as he casually leaned against the wall, though his smile was forced. “Love what you’ve done with the place! How’d you get cybermatter to Earth, Doc?”

“I didn’t,” Ratchet replied testily and he returned to the console. “It had to be Megatron. He somehow has control over the Omega Lock.”

“Omega-what-now?” Wheeljack straightened and he moved forward to look at what it was the medic was typing. It was then his field brushed against an unfamiliar presence and he automatically drew his blades.

“Hold it!” Ratchet shouted, and he was there in front of him, holding up his servos in the universal sign of peace. “She’s not a threat, I promise.”

The white mech narrowed his eyes and lowered his blades, but he didn’t put them away. “She?”

Ratchet grimaced, and Wheeljack picked up on a short wave of apprehension and confusion before the medic stepped to the side. The white wreker's optics widened in surprise and his jaw dropped when he saw a femme sprawled across a low bench. She was in recharge, but he felt another troubled pulse come from her EM field.

He gave Ratchet a long look as he slowly put his swords away. Crossing his arms he approached the unknown femme.

“Don’t get too close,” the medic warned. Wheeljack gave him a sharp look when he felt a defensive wall cross before him. “She’s… unstable. And scared. Keep your field in tight.”

Wheeljack scoffed. “And I see that you're using yours extensively, Doc. Who is she?” He demanded.

The medic twitched again. “She… claims to be June Darby.”

The wrecker whirled around in surprise. “The human carrier of one of them kids? How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know,” Ratchet ground out. “I don’t know what’s going on at all!"

Wheeljack waved a dramatic servo in the air. "Start from the beginning."

Ratchet pressed his lips together stubbornly. Wheeljack was contemplating if he needed to press the medic, when he finally answered. 

"Optimus and the others left for Cybertron to find a relic called the Omega Lock. We believe it powerful enough to restore our home planet."

"But something happened and ol'Buckethead used it against Earth instead." Wheeljack summed up. His spark skipped a beat at hearing that though. Something to restore Cybertron? Was it truly possible? The flight over was confirmation enough for him.

"That is the working theory, yes." Ratchet continued typing away at the console. "I'm currently trying to see if I can connect this space bridge to Cybertron so I can get a signal through and get real answers."

"And the femme?"

"When I woke up I went outside to determine my location and she was laying just outside the entrance. I had to use a dangerous medical procedure to wake her up. From what I can tell she does have June Darby's personality and memories. Though it’s extremely confusing. Readings indicate that the spark  _ is  _ new. That may be an adult frame, but it seems to act more like a sparkling's. She can’t walk yet. She was able to pull in her EM field for a time, which is a good sign, but the situation was too overwhelming for her and she fell into a defrag cycle."

"Pits," Wheeljack swore. He turned back to the femme with wider optics, "A sparkling? There hasn't been a newspark in-"

"In eons. Yes, I know."

"But from a fleshy? How in Primus is that even possible?"

"I don't know!" Ratchet shouted and Wheeljack flinched against the solid clang of a servo hitting the console and the wave of frustration and anger that followed. "The implications of a human turning Cybertronian are unfathomable. If Megatron discovers this he will be even more motivated to cyberform earth, and add to his army."

Wheeljack felt his energon lines run cold. He didn't want to admit it, but they were fighting a losing battle. It set his wrecker’s spark aflame. Hesitantly he spoke up, "On my flight over here I picked up a number of life signatures. Megatron  _ will _ find out eventually."

Ratchet didn't stop typing. It was nearly a bream when he spoke again. His voice came out grim and solemn, "When he does, I hope that we have found Optimus by then, because Earth will not survive without him."

The base fell to silence again. Wheeljack just about had enough when he looked up to the large screens. Covering the top half were various human news broadcasting stations all muted, but each was undoubtedly covering the mutated landscape of the western United States.

"Uhh, problem, Doc."

"How many times must I tell you that my name is Ratchet, not-"

"Stop throwing a hissy fit and look!"

Ratchet followed the mech's pointing servo and his optics got twice as large. A newscaster was speaking, but next to their face was a satellite image of the  _ Nemesis _ . The reporter finished speaking, and the video turned to a live feed of the United States President speaking. The man looked very pale and unhealthily, and seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere but in front of the dozens of reports hungrily waiting for his announcement. 

Ratchet turned up the volume.

"The facts are these: As of seven twenty-three, yesterday evening, a bright beam of light touched Earth a few miles outside Jasper, Nevada. The light continued to move across the landscape for more than ten hours, leaving behind a metallic, inorganic substance. Scientists and military personnel are the only persons allowed near the area as there are significantly high levels of radiation. But as of an hour ago, a craft of extraterrestrial origin entered orbit above the disaster zone."

The man took a deep intake, but he didn't get far before the reporters bombarded him with questions and flashes of light. Surprisingly, the man continued on, as if reading from a script, totally disregarding the panic escalating around him.

"It is as mankind has suspected: We are not alone in the universe. And I believe we can safely conclude that these other beings do not have earth's or humankind's best interest in mind. Many lives and livelihoods have been lost in this act. Whether it was intentional or accidental we cannot be sure, but I, as President of the United States, declare a state of emergency unlike any other and a mobilization of all our forces. I solemnly proclaim to you, aliens from another world, that mankind will not simply stand by and let this atrocity go without due recompense!"

"He's an idiot," Wheeljack concluded.

"Megatron is here," was Ratchet's slightly more useful contribution. His servos went flying over the console.

"Uh, Doc? Shouldn't we be going?"

"I  _ can't!  _ I need to reach Optimus!"

Wheeljack scanned the readings on the screen and grimaced. "I don't mean to tell you how to do your job, Sunshine, but correct me if I'm wrong, but you’re still several megacycles from making a space bridge connection, aren’t’cha?"

Ratchet's antagonistic wave of displeasure told Wheeljack he hit a circuit. With a grunt he said, "Look! Face reality. We  _ have  _ to leave Earth. It's lost. Megatron has control. I'll take us out to space and maybe we can meet some allies, even the OP himself. Then we can return to Earth and kick tin can over what's left of it."

"How could you say that!?" The medic whirled around and roared at him. Wheljack was unfazed by the blistering anger coming from the usually calm and rational mech. "We've fought and bled for this planet! We cannot allow Megatron to destroy another. Not with these… these lives at stake!"

"Lives are always at stake. I agree with you, Doc. It doesn't sit well with me that humans are going to be squished under Megatron's heel. But there's only  _ two  _ of us. We  _ cannot _ face him alone, as the humans won't be of any help at all. It's better to leave so we can live to fight another day."

The medic, for as cold of a front he usually put up, crumpled. "I cannot leave. Optimus may still be waiting for my help."

Wheeljack seethed. "If you stay here you'll die. Or worse, get captured!"

Ratchet hesitated in his typing and looked over af the femme. Something flickered in his optics. "Take the femme, and several other important items. They need to stay out of Megatron's servos."

"And you," Wheeljack bartered.

"No."

"RATC-"

"I'm further along this than you might think. I just need the time. But in case I don't have the that, I will ground bridge myself out of here and you can pick me up and we will leave for space."

Wheeljack's digits dug into his arm struts. He wanted to argue. He really did. But DocBot was more stubborn than he was cranky. He knew this was as good of a deal as he was going to get.

"Fine," he snapped. "Then I'm going to rig this place to blow sky high when you leave."

"Acceptable."

Wheeljack snapped into action then. "What all needs to be taken?"

Ratchet nodded his head towards the other side. "I placed it all there by the femme."

When he got to it, Wheeljack scoffed, "You sure do pack light." There were several crates of supplies filled to the brim with energon cubes, tools, spare parts, weapon replacements, and datapads. Spying something in the middle of the crates, he tried pulling it out.

"Holy Primus! This thing's heavy!"

Ratchet spared him a glance and answered, "That's the Forge of Solus Prime. Of all that's there, that and the femme are the most important. Neither, under any circumstance, must fall to Megatron."

"Got'cha," Wheeljack wheezed. This might be a little harder than he thought. "Got a hoverlift around here?"

The medic deigned to answer him, but after a quick look around he found one pushed not too far away.

"Right, up ya go," he muttered to the relic. Once it was on the hoverlift, moving it was a breeze, but for the life of him, if he tried moving it himself it was like trying to separate two polarized super magnets.

Cautiously, he took the Forge down the road leading outside. Was it really  _ the _ fragging  _ Forge  _ of Solus Prime? Pits, when he first came to this mud ball he had no idea it held so many treasures. Humans not being the least of them. He thought of Miko. The kid had spunk, a real wrecker. He gritted his denta in anger. He had no idea where she was, and it damaged his spark to think she probably perished. Flying by the town she lived in only confirmed that place was a mess. Nothing Earth-like about it. So it was with a heavy spark he lifted the Forge into his ship. If he was a poet he might think something stupid, like how his spark was heavier than this blasted relic because he had lost another good comrade. But no. He was beyond that kind of foolishness now. Now, he let that heaviness sink into his struts and become the push he needed to keep fighting this pit-spawned war.

Before leaving his ship, he loaded the hoverlift with the majority of his explosives. He told Ratchet he was going to blow the place sky-high, and by Unicron he would. And hopefully catch the  _ Nemisis _ in the blowback.

He deposited the explosives a safe distance from the femme, and began to reload the lift with whatever junk Ratchet thought was necessary to keep. “Primus, Ratchet,” he muttered, “Learn how to pack.” He ruffled through the items, making snide comments about rusted junk and worthless crap.

“Hold it, Wheeljack! Those are important prototypes!”

“I can’t haul all your crap around, Doc! The ship can only take so much weight.  _ Only  _ the essentials.” Wheeljack uncarringly flung out a what’cha’ma’call’it and grinned when he heard the hiss from the medic.

“Fine, I concede. But I  _ do _ need that.” Ratchet plucked the next object out of the wrecker’s servo.

“A mediwrist? But you already have a perfectly functioning one.”

“It’s not for me,” Ratchet snapped back. “June is not a fighter. And I hope she never has to be. She was a human medic, so I was hoping she would follow the same path as a cybertronian.”

Wheeljack raised an opticbrow. “OK, fine, whatever. So attach it on her and that’ll be one less thing I have to carry.”

“I won’t operate on a patient without their knowledge. And it has to be her choice.” Ratchet placed the mediwrist back in the crate. He looked inside and frowned. “Half this stuff in here is in case she wants to truly pursue the path. It’s all been used, but they should serve her well if she chooses.”

Wheeljack let out a low growl. “Only the essentials.”

“Fine,” Ratchet snapped and scooped out six items. “The rest of the tools can go. But the datapads stay.”

“Right,” Wheeljack was already throwing out the extra junk. “This’ll save us some space.”

It wasn’t too much later that Wheeljack had everything but the femme loaded up onto the ship. He immediately got to work on placing and arming the explosives around the base. He couldn’t help the wicked grin as he thought of the stupid drones that would hopefully get caught up in the explosion. Heck, if he was lucky, maybe even Starscream.

“‘K, DocBot! The place is armed and ready to go boom! If you  _ do _ manage to reach Optimus and the other ‘Bots come back, comm me and I’ll safely undo all my work. Until then, I wouldn’t recommend moving from your spot. I’m going to rig the entrance so when somebody enters, you’ll get fair warning and can groundbridge outta here in time. And you better get out of here,  _ alive _ , Ratchet _! _ ”

Wheeljack didn’t care that he got so close into the personal space of a superior officer that their pulled-in fields brushed. He’d done that plenty of times. He sent over a huff of annoyance when the scientist hardly seemed to react. Finally, the ‘Bot turned away from his furious typing and looked at him. Wheeljack didn’t like that look. It was the look he’d seen on plenty of Autobots who thought there was only one way to do something. From his experience, a well-placed grenade or two blew open plenty of other opportunities.

“I will, Wheeljack. Thank you. Take care of June. She may be disoriented when she wakes up so be gentle with her.”

“You better not leave me alone with a crazy femme for too long, Ratchet,” Wheeljack warned.

“Her body is perfectly healthy, but I’m sure it’s a difficult adjustment for her mental state to accept the change. Keep her inside the ship, as she struggles hiding her signature.”

“Great,” Wheeljack groused. “Take care of yourself, Doc. And… good luck.”

“You as well,” the medic said, then he promptly turned right back around and began typing again.

Wheeljack sighed then slowly walked away. Gently, he picked up the femme and headed back to the ship. It was now a little cramped, but he placed her down in what he hoped was a comfortable position. Then he went back outside and placed a few tripwires and grenades, rigging the entrance in such a way that when triggered it would totally collapse, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.

“So that’s it, femme.” He sighed when he re-entered his ship. She only mumbled something incoherent, but didn’t wake as he powered up the  _ Jackhammer _ . With one last glance at the Autobot base, he murmured, “Why don’t we go wait for Ratchet at those coordinates?” The  _ Jackhammer _ then sped away, hovering low over the ground towards their destination.


	6. Unexpected surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Breaths deep* I solemnly swear that I will never complain about Zelda’s continuity ever again. Like, Holy Primus, wtflip is wrong with the Transformers Universe!? I get that I’m new to this fandom and all, but hardly anything meshes with anything else. It’s frustrating for an author. So I’ve made up my mind to do what-ever-the-heck I want, instead of carefully crafting a world based on the known facts, like I do with Zelda’s T.S.  
>   
> With that said, I’m putting it out there that the majority of what I write is based on the Prime Universe, but cameo appearances of other characters (as you’ve seen) will happen, and be quite prominent. As I said I’m new to the fandom, so other characters that I’m unfamiliar with may be a little OOC to your liking, as I’m pretty much running on other fanfictions for my facts/ characterizations. But if you have any input (nicely, please. If you’re going to be rude, I’ll simply ignore you.) PLEASE feel free to share!  
>   
> **If you have any particular character you want to see from any Transformers Universe, just give a call-out and I’ll see what I can do to make them a part of the story. It may be big or small, or just a passing mention, it just depends on how much information I can find to build them into an actual character and the various roles I need filled, so that will mesh well with BNW. Again, I’m going to be doing what-ever-the-flip I want with these characters, as the plot is what’s most important to me.
> 
> Characters I already have planned are as follows:  
> Prowl  
> Jazz  
> Mirage  
> First-Aid  
> Thundercracker  
> Jetfire  
> The DJD  
> Plus a bunch of OC’s
> 
> Anyway, give me your input, I’ll be happy to take it, but please don’t be too offended when I don’t do things how you want. This is my story and I’ve got plans, but I’m happy to let readers have their input. It just makes reading it that much more fun, doesn’t it?  
> -TFC, out

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

“Don’t say that! Don’t say that name! If there’s ever a person who’s most deserving of my hatred, it’s _him!_ ”

\- Audio file 24-0018-9463, Confiscated Archives

**Chapter 6: Unexpected surprises**

“Scrap.” There were plenty of other things the seeker wanted to say, but he really didn’t have the time. The first of what was undoubtedly many waves of heat washed over him as he jumped into the air and transformed. He banked hard, his wing tip getting clipped by falling debris.

“Gah!” he screamed as he tumbled to the ground. Luckily for him he was out of the blast range by the time he stopped rolling. But the eradicons that were with him were not so lucky. Their staticky screams were abruptly cut off as several tons of compressed cybermatter crushed them.

“Scrap!” He shouted again as he punched the loose grains below him. Those blasted Autobots! They had rigged their own base! Not that it was that uncommon of a practice, but this was excessive to the extreme!

He rose to his pedes, while holding his right arm. He sneered as he watched the former desert plateau crumble. This was going to be a headache to explain to Lord Megatron. No doubt he would want the place combed for any other relics or technology the Autobots managed to hold onto, as well as evidence for where the medic went. Starscream highly doubted the bleeding-spark was brave enough to take his own life in an explosion like this.

As he stomped back over to the entrance, he froze. Was… was that _more_ explosions coming from _inside?_ Exactly how insane were these worthless scraps of metal?

“Eeep!” The vosian shrieked as he backpedaled, throwing his servos in front of his face. It was like they intended to blow their base sky-high!

Recognizing a worthless cause when he saw one, the SIC transformed into his alt mode and blasted off to the waiting spaceship. Lord Megatron was not going to like this one bit.

* * *

“I’m not happy, Starscream,” Megatron growled. “I pulled you from Cybertron for this seemingly simple task because I knew you would have enjoyed finishing off the last of them. But it seems you do not appreciate the gifts I grant you.”

“It really wasn’t my fault, my Lord! That stupid eradicon tripped the detnator before we could defuse it! If he wasn’t dead already, be assured he would have suffered greatly at my servo for the blunder!”

Starscream twitched. He wasn’t in the wrong, this time. Lord Megatron _had_ to see reason on this! Despite his raging feelings, the seeker wisely kept his field pulled in tight.

His Lord and Master stayed silent, though, which was terrifying in it’s own right.

“Go back to Cybetron,” the Leader of the Decepticons snapped. “Hopefully there nothing will explode in your face, as things tend to do here.”

Starscream winced at the jab. True, Earth was not his shining moment for well-executed plans. But meger guard duty? That’s what he was regulated to? It was humiliating. ...But it was also the Omega Lock. The _one_ thing in the whole universe that gave his spark hope. Fine. Fine! It wasn’t all that exciting, but one day everyone in the whole galaxy would know of his contributions to the cause. Being an honorable guard of the sacred relic would just be one more in a long list of them. 

Recognizing his que to leave he turned around and walked away, signaling to Soundwave to open the spacebridge. It promptly did, but before he could step through, that annoying, self-indulging medic practically ran into him and dropped to a knee.

“Lord Megatron!”

Their master whirled around with an angry snarl at the breech of protocol. The idiotic mech raised his servos in pleading and said, “Please wait, Lord Megatron! I have discovered something that will surely aid your cause!”

“And that required leaving the Omega Lock unattended!?” Megatron roared with his usual heated fury. Starscream couldn’t stop the smirk quivering on his lips. At least his most recent endeavor was quickly swept to the side with this blunder.

“I shall rectify this blunder immediately, Lord Megatron,” he stated as he stalked past Knock-Out. He gave the medic a leer before entering the space bridge.

He shrugged his wings, happy to be out of sight of Megatron. He brought a claw up to his chin as he glanced about the area. “Now what could it be that the- euhgk!” His whole frame froze. 

No. _Impossible._ He, he was sure that the freak had died!

“So you are alive, Starscream. It seems that my calculations were inaccurate, as I had predicted you would have off-lined, if not by autobot servos then… another’s.”

The seeker twitched at the jab and moved back a step from the intimidating mech. Realizing his mistake too late, as the dumb guards were watching the interaction with interest, instead of their surroundings, Starscream attempted to recover a bit of his pride. “That’s _Commander_ Starscream to you, Shockwave.”

The scientist didn’t react, but continued his slow, steady pede-falls before standing before Starscream. The seeker was quite proud that he didn’t tremble, well, mostly.

“Well, what do you want?” he snapped as he crossed his struts, unimpressed. 

The single optic whirred as it focused on Starscream, and there was a slow undulation from one of the antennas, but still, that unfeeling freak spoke in his low, monotone voice. “I intend to speak with Lord Megatron. For that objective to be completed I need to enter the spacebridge, of which you are currently obstructing.”

The seeker twitched again, but sighed as he put on his act. “Oh, very well,” he said as he strutted out of the way. “But don’t keep Lord Megatron for long as he’s a very busy mech, now with his plans to cyberform… earth.”

The mech turned what was left of his head to give Starscream what could have been a withering look, then spoke calmly as he began moving into the spacebridge. “I am always.. concise, Starscream.” Then, he disappeared.

“And good riddance,” Starscream muttered as the space bridge closed. Problem was, he knew the mech was here to stay. And that did not bode well for him. Not well at all. 

* * *

Jack knew they were in trouble when he was woken by heavy footfalls. Blearly, he opened his eyes and blinked several times. A shiver ran down his back, his body warning him of the freezing temperatures, but he knew it was a real problem when he didn’t feel cold. Setting aside the high likelihood of hypothermia to worry about later, his muddled brain tried understanding the giant red light in front of him.

The brightness of the light dimmed as it was twisted into a pinpoint, kind of like a zoom lens on a camer- like… like _an optic_ . Jack flinched when he came to that conclusion and dared to look past the giant eye. But it was terrifying, as it seemed like this unknown cybertronian didn’t have a face. Immediately his heart jumped to his throat and his body locked up in fear. That- that _thing_ was looking right at him, _studying_ him. 

The unique language of the cybertronians vibrated around him, sounding like a low gong. Another answered, as new sounds flooded his ears, this time sounding like a drum with an added hiss. Jack shivered as his eyes roamed the area and they locked onto Megatron’s. The Lord of the Decepticons only gave him a wicked smile and he spoke in the alien tongue again as he approached. The other unknown mech politely stepped to the side. Jack braced himself for his cage to be rattled around, but Megatron merely reached out to pluck up the Omega Keys.

Jack tried swallowing but his mouth was too dry. He knew Megatron had left them there to tease him. It sucked because it had _worked_ . Jack spent a long time staring at those keys, trying to block out the accusations the liar had spouted. But one fact _was_ true… Optimus _had_ given the order to destroy the Omega Lock, the leader’s only chance at rebuilding his world, in order to save Jack’s. And Prime paid the ultimate price for that order. It had wrapped Jack in a cold fury as he had stared at the keys, _the two keys_ , so willingly traded for a worthless piece of scrap like him. When he couldn’t do anything but plead. He didn’t want to be in the hands of the Decepticons, but he felt as if the price was too high, especially now.

He sent the Decepticon Leader his coldest glare yet. Megatron merely smirked at him.

“Hello, Jack,” he spoke to him, in English this time in that rasping baritone. “It’s good to see that you’re awake.”

_Not for long_ , Jack thought as he mentally reviewed his physical state. Surprisingly, that knowledge didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

“You’re faring better than the other two, it seems.”

Jack could only flicker his eyes. He wasn’t sure when Miko had fallen silent. She was curled away from him, but he could thankfully see that she was still breathing. Raf, on the other hand, looked far worse. His tan skin couldn’t make up its mind if it was lighter or darker than usual and his whole body was trembling violently. If Jack had the power, he would have taken Raf and Miko far, far away from here. 

Megatron suddenly turned away and Jack looked up, curiosity overriding his physical weakness. Off to his other side stood Soundwave, who he hadn’t even noticed until now. On the silent mech’s visor Jack saw the coordinates to a groundbridge and at the same time the familiar brilliant light erupted behind him. Taking the risk, he turned around and his jaw dropped. 

The groundbridge was smaller as it hovered just above the table he was left on. And what stepped through it could only be described as a metal cat. A _giant_ metal cat that was the size of a small horse. It totally ignored him as it bounded to the edge of the table and bowed its head to Lord Megatron. The rumbles that came from it ironically sounded like a cat’s purr boosted with a heavy bass and Jack almost laughed in hysterics at the thought.

But the light didn’t fade, and when the cat finished speaking it turned around to watch. Jack also turned around, completely bewildered as to what else might come from the portal. What were the chances that it could be a giant rat the size of a house? Like a twisted version of Tom and Jerry?

Whatever light-hearted thoughts he had were instantly wiped away as, as impossible as it seemed, _humans_ stepped through the ground bridge. There were six, all adults. They each paused as they came though, as if hesitant to come any closer. Finally, the one that was smartly dressed in an expensive suit broke away from the group when the portal closed. Jack openly stared, wide-eyed and unbelieving. His heart flipped-flopped painfully as he realized Megatron spoke a second truth: That humans were still alive. He hadn’t dared to believe him until now, as there was no conceivable reason to.

Scrambling to his feet, despite his shivering muscles’ protest, Jack pressed against the glass. He was going to speak up and warn the man, but he found he didn’t have a voice. His throat was too sore and dry to produce any sound besides a dry hacking that only aggravated it more. 

Startlingly, the man walked by without even acknowledging Jack in the slightest. He placed a fist over his heart and bowed, and in a voice that just barely quivered, he said words Jack thought no human would _ever_ utter. “Lord Megatron, how may I be of service to you?”

Megatron gave the widest grin Jack had seen yet. “I’ve allowed you to board the _Nemesis_ because of them.” And without any warning, Jack was knocked around as he felt himself rise to the air. Then his whole world tilted and he went sliding across the glass. He tumbled out of his prison into an uncomfortable heap.

Jack could only grunt as pins and needles ran across his entire body in excruciating waves. He almost missed the man’s confused question.

“Pardon me, sir, but I don’t quite understand?” The man flinched under Megatron’s disapproval.

The mech spoke slowly as if he were speaking to a dim child.“No doubt you are aware of what happened. I am in possession of a weapon that is capable of cyberforming planets. As of now, the plans I had made for humans are aborted.”

The man was visibly shaken. His eyes were wide and he even dared to open his mouth either in protest or pleading, Jack wasn’t sure. At this point the teenager managed to lay on his back and was gathering the energy to sit up. With ever growing fury, his addled brain parsed together the conversation.

“You’re a traitor,” Jack hissed with pure venom. He found the strength to push himself up a few inches and to croak out louder, “You’re a _damn fragging Traitor!_ You _work_ with Megatron?”

The man whirled around with a sneer as he folded his arms across his chest. “What of it?” he arrogently asked.

Jack really couldn’t believe what he was hearing. There were humans working _with the Decepticons_. It was such a ludicrous idea that Jack would have laughed, and laughed hard, if he hadn’t fallen so deep into his frenzy.

“They’re the enemy!” Jack finally managed to sit up properly and glared at Megatron. The bastard had only leaned back and crossed his arms with a nasty grin stretched across his face.

“For you, maybe. But I found this relationship to be quite profitable.”

Jack snapped his eyes back to the traitor and watched as he tugged at the suit sleeves. Jack squinted his eyes, then jerked his head back as he saw the silver cufflinks. It was the Decepticon insignia. Jack felt his stomach drop through the floor. This couldn’t be real.

He was about to fly into a real rage when Megatron placed his hand on the table. “Enough of this. We’re almost out of time,” he intoned. It was far from the mocking or vengeful hiss Jack had heard from him so often, so he was somewhat startled. 

It was then he heard Miko cry out and Jack ignored the outrageous situation he had somehow fallen into to see Miko had been taken into the air by the faceless Decepticon. Before he could move, her cage had been unscrewed and she as well tumbled out onto the table. She twitched and turned to face him, which spurred him to stand. It hurt like the pits as his muscles tried cramping. It was only her fearful expression and a short, “Raf!” that prevented him from rushing toward her.

He turned to find that Raf had been taken up in Soundwave’s servos. Knowing what was going to happen, he ran over just in time to catch the small boy. He was heavier than he estimated and Jack could only twist his body so that Raf wouldn’t have to hit the cold metal. But still, they both grunted, Jack a little louder as his shoulder smacked loudly and painfully.

Raf trembled harder in his arms, but twisted his head to face Jack. Jack could do nothing to comfort those wide, fearful eyes behind skewed glasses, as he saw his own mortified expression in them. Fiercely he brought his hand to press the kid’s head against his chest as he closed his own eyes. He felt Raf shift under him as he clutched his shirt. A shuddering sob escaped the genius and it took every ounce of the teenager’s willpower to not break down.

Hurried, squeaking steps alerted him to Miko’s approach, and Jack groaned as he attempted to sit up. Miko pressed her small, freezing hands against his back to help him. Raf, though, refused to let go of his shirt.

“What’s- what’s going on?” Jack saw Miko’s breath mist in front of him with the question. 

“I don’t know,” he rasped just as quietly. His body trembled, but he didn’t know if it was from the cold, fear, lack of food, or the utter hostility he was feeling at the moment. “But they’re traitors,” he hissed as he glared at the businessman. 

The man only rolled his eyes. With a wave of his hand he ordered the others that had come with his through the portal. Without a word the other adults approached the threesome, and Jack finally noticed that several carried medical kits with them. 

Miko pressed closer to him and snarled, “Stay away!”

The oldest of the group, a pale man with wirey glasses and grey hair, paused and raised his hands in peace. “Please, I’m just here to help you. You’re clearly suffering the effects of hypothermia. You need medical attention right now.”

“I don’t care!” Her voice broke, but still she fisted her hands.

Raf flinched under him and Jack gripped him tighter. The poor boy was trembling even worse and his breathing was becoming uneven.

“Miko,” Jack breathed. Something in his tone must have alerted her because she instantly turned back around and her face crumpled when she saw Raf. Speaking the obvious, Jack said, “Raf needs help. He’s- he’s not going to last much longer if this continues.”

They all weren’t going to last much longer was the unspoken truth. But still, this was _Raf_ . They were practically brothers now, after having been thrown together months ago with that first encounter with the autobots. Jack instinctively felt the need to do _something_ to help him. Survival had somehow become their only priority, and that responsibility fell to him to take care of the other two.

Miko hunched her shoulders and glared back at the medics. “Fine,” she snapped. “Help Raf!”

The medic only frowned at being ordered by a little girl, but he approached nonetheless. Jack turned Raf around and realized with horror that he had stopped clinging to him.

“Raf?”, his voice came high and cracked with fear.

The doctor took his wrist and measured his heartbeat. After a moment he turned to one of the others that knelt beside him and ordered, “Oxygen, stat. And start breaking those handwarmers.”

Raf was taken out of Jack’s own weak arms and he could only watch in horror as the medics got to work. Jack felt that overwhelming numbness crash over again and he slumped his head between his legs. Over the mutterings of the doctors he heard the rumble of Megatron’s voice.

“-the only reason I am inclined to preserve any remnant of humanity. So make those adjustments.” 

Jack shivered again, but this time it was at the tone of Megatron’s voice. It was domineering and commanding. Jack risked a look and saw that the man was still standing but had his shoulders hunched almost to his ears.

“Yes, of course, Lord Megatron. I’ll get started right away.” He bowed again and turned when the ground bridge opened. When he looked at Jack a strange expression crossed his face and he almost seemed hesitant to walk over. But his faltering step was corrected in an instant and he reached down to grab Jack’s arm.

“Let go of me!” Jack seethed as he weakly tried breaking the man’s hold.

“Just stop fighting already. We’re taking you to Earth.”

Jack faltered at that. Earth. Home. An overwhelming need to be outside and feeling the warmth of the sun crashed over him and he deliriously stood up. But then he remembered _why_ he was so cold and he narrowed his eyes at the snake. “And to do what? _Die?_ ”

The man leaned over him and Jack was hit with the strong smell of some expensive cologne and he wrinkled his nose. He stared right into the man’s dark eyes which were unapologetic and fierce. 

“You know what kid?” He hissed, low and threatening, “When someone offers you a helping hand you should just accept it.”

“Accept it!?” Jack screeched as he mustered what little strength he had to try and push off the offending hands grasping him. “You’re a fragging backstabbing inhuman _traitor_!” 

His blood was pumping faster now and realizing he couldn’t just pull the hands off, decided on another course of action. Mom would be disappointed. She raised him to never strike another person. It was why even all those times he really wanted to lash out against Vince, he never did. Pulling pranks and one-upping during illegal races was one thing, but to actually _hurt_ another person physically… that was a line he was never supposed to cross.

But he did as he rammed his free fist into the jerk’s stomach, making the man keel over. With the loose grip, Jack wasted no time in pushing him off. He didn’t even manage to stumble away when he was flattened on his back by a giant metal paw.

“Stop resisting,” came the vibrating growl.

Jack ignored that advice but all that happened was that the paw pressed harder. Hard enough for him to let out a keen when he felt the immense pressure on his ribs. Through blurred vision he saw the cat’s jaw move in time with the incomprehensible statement of, “I have no desire to harm the master’s pet. So cease your struggles.”

It wasn’t that he _wanted_ to do what scary robo-cat wanted but Jack’s body gave up on him. He was exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. He couldn’t keep doing this. Though as he closed his eyes he caught sight of Miko throwing a wild punch at one of the adults that tried approaching her, and he heard her scream at the top of her lungs. The last thought he had before he faded into oblivion was, _Go get’em, Miko._


	7. Grenade Grounding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning/ Disclaimer: Mentions of possible suicide, possible trigger warnings, etc. And no, this is NOT how you handle a person with suicidal tendencies.

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

‘Grenade Grounding’ was a technique used during the Civil War and for a short period after, to combat irrational and dangerous behavior. … These days it is greatly frowned upon to use such extreme and dangerous methods of bringing the affected mech or femme to awareness, but historical accounts  _ do _ affirm the surprising success rate. … It seems that any being of conscious thought is able to ‘tough it out’ through any number of overwhelming situations as long as their one desire is kept moderately within reach.

_ \- Curious Medical Practices Before the Gilded Age: Part Two: Affected Processors _ (7: 36: 82) ****

**Chapter 7: Grenade Grounding**

Ratchet stepped through the ground bridge unhappily. He had failed to reach Optimus. Viciously he cast those feelings of hurt, disgust, and  _ failure _ to the side. He had tried. It was his best effort, but it didn't work. So move along. He was a scientist, and failure was just a part of the process. He just wished it didn't have such a high price. But he hadn't survived the war for this long without following through on the next step. And right now that was to find Wheeljack.

The area was quiet. Well, as quiet as organic life could be. There were birds flying in the air, bugs buzzing about, and just the general feeling of  _ life _ , which turned out to be a somewhat surprising comfort to the medic. Megatron's poisonous touch had yet to reach this area.

His scanner picked up on an Autobot signal. It was farther away than he would have liked, but it was no matter. With a sigh, he began the climb up the ridge.

With great relief he made it to the  _ Jackhammer _ in just over a megacycle _.  _ Bewilderingly, he saw June sitting on the grass a short distance away, frowning intently at something clutched in her lap. As he drew closer she looked up and her deep blue optics shined in surprise and happiness.

"Ratchet!" She called and moved as if to stand on her pedes. But she fumbled and her optics got huge as she watched the item slip out of her servos.

...Which was a grenade. 

In the moment that it hung suspended in the air Ratchet was torn between his instinct to dive for cover or to lunge towards the femme. Luckily he was spared from having to make the decision as she snatched it and cradled it to her chest, thankfully unactivated.

"Oh thank goodness," she muttered, then, strangely enough, an expression crossed her face that he really couldn't identify. Perhaps it was confusion mixed with horror and pain? Or maybe disgust? Anxious relief? But regardless, he hurried over, albeit cautiously. 

"Jun- er, Ms. Darby… why... are you holding an incinerator?" Ratchet finally recalled the human custom of honorifics and surnames, and internally winced. He had been far too forward earlier in his attempts to calm her down.

She looked up at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Just call me June," she insisted. And carefully lifting the explosive, she said, "Wheelja-"

"I gave it to her, so she could choose," the white wrecker drawled as he came around the side of the ship. With a frown he stated, "You came here sooner than I expected."

With a heavy vent, Ratchet sighed, "Yes, unfortunately." He paused a moment then scowled at the trigger-happy mech. "Did you really have to use so much explosive? The tripwire at the entrance did its job almost a little too well."

"I wanted to be thorough," came the shrug.

The medic glanced down at the femme who was watching them with calm optics. With another scowl aimed at Wheeljack, he then asked, "And why did you give June a grenade to hold? She could hurt herself!"  _ Or worse _ , he added internally.

The opticroll only made Ratchet’s pressure rise in his energon lines. "It's an old wrecker thing. Anyway, glad you're here, you can help me get on with the repairs."

Ratchet was about to argue, but a hard stare from the other Cybertronian made him change his mind. Wisely following with the change of topic, he nodded his head to June and walked over to the  _ Jackhammer _ .

"Repairs?" He asked before he stopped and stared. 

This was not good. Not good at all.

"Yeah, sorry you had to hike it here, but we could only limp along for so long before landing."

"What-" 

Wheeljack continued as if Ratchet hadn't tried to ask the obvious question. He grunted, "Ran into some blasted seekers out on patrol. During the maneuvers femme woke up and started panicking. I kinda lost my concentration and they nicked the  _ 'Hammer. _ "

Ratchet winced. Nicked was putting it nicely. More than half the plating was scorched on this side, leading up to the epicenter of the blast. A sizable hole nearly the size of Ratchet's head was exposing the craft's delicate lines of wiring. Several bundles were already hanging out, and clamps fitted tightly in place to prevent more energon from spilling out. Wheeljack was clearly doing his best, but this was not an easy fix.

"I'm sorry," he lamely stated. "I should have woken her before putting her on your ship." Because he knew exactly what happened. Waking up from recharge in a different location was bad enough for a long-time Cybertronian war veteran, but for someone in June's position who was already unstable? And in the middle of a firefight? Inwardly he cursed himself for not thinking that far ahead. He was so caught up in recalibrating the bridge and mulling over his fears for Optimus that he neglected the duties before him.

Wheeljack, for his part, only grunted before moving forward to silently inspect his work. Ratchet followed him and he found himself analyzing the mess. After some hushed questions and mechanical jargon the two set about their tasks. 

It wasn't until he was into twisting his fifth bundle of wires that he dared to ask, "So the old wrecker thing. Am I to understand that you made June hold the grenade to ground her to reality?"

Wheeljack didn't stop his welding to answer. "Yeah," he muttered. "I've used that plenty of times in the past. It works." Then he grimaced. Lowely, he added, "For the most part."

"I'm well aware of those statistics," the medic replied blandly. With a tug on another bundle, he asked, "So what did you tell her? What did you use as the catalyst to get her thinking?"

There was a slight twitch in the white mech's shoulders and it took him a while to answer. Ratchet began to worry. He leaned around the edge of the ship to look at June. Maybe he should go over and do damage control right now, before something terrible happened. 

Wheeljack noticed his none-too-subtle worry, and huffed. "Give me some credit, Doc. It's a dud. I took out the detonator before shoving it into her servos. I don't want something like that on my consciousness."  _ Again _ , was left unspoken.

Ratchet vented slowly. "It still may not help her."

"Yeah, well it's helping me. It got her to pull in her EM field better." Wheeljack crotchetitly snapped back as he banged against some torn plating.

"I did notice that." Ratchet let his version of a thank you hang in the air before pressing, "So, what are you getting her to think about?"

"Her kid. If I remember Miko gossiping about her correctly, that carrier is pretty protective. She let it slip that she had to find him during her panic, so I used that. I'm making her weigh her options on whether or not it's worth the risk to stick it out here and find him, or to," Wheeljack spared a moment to raise his servos in an air quote action, "'wake-up' from this nightmare."

Ratchet thought about it for a long time. He finished bundling and inspecting the wires and moved on to reattaching the ones he could and rerouting power to ones he couldn't while he mused.

Wheeljack took a huge risk, but he couldn't fault him for the path taken. Using a person's closest loved ones was certainly a powerful motivator but it could also backfire, and horribly so. If the femme decided that this  _ wasn't  _ reality, it would be much more difficult to prevent her from doing something drastic. So far, though, that didn't seem to be the case. Her optics, though still scared and confused, were calmer than before. 

A bit curious, he asked, "What else did you say to her?"

"To sit right there and enjoy the sunshine and to try not flaring her EM field as the ship can only dampen it so much."

Ratchet gave him an incredulous look. Then he peered around the edge again. This time June caught him staring and gave him an awkward wave.

"What?" Wheeljack asked warily. 

Ratchet's servos moved a little quicker to finish his current task. Grudgingly, he admitted, "You said the right thing. I'm going to go talk to her now."

Without waiting to hear the wrecker’s reply, the Ratchet walked over to his patient. June heard him coming and turned her helm to look at him.

"H-hi," she stuttered, before quickly glancing down to her lap.

"Hello… June," Ratchet just as quietly said as he bent to one knee. A bit lighter he asked, "How are you feeling?"

June opened her intake then shut it just as quickly. It was half a klick before she rapped her pedes with her servo tip and morosely sighed, "I still can't feel my toes."

Ratchet just barely choked back a scoff. That wasn't what he meant, and she knew it. But fine, he would let it slide. He had poor bedside manners but they weren't totally non-existent. 

"Hmm, strange," he humored her. "You still haven't been able to reroute your energon?"

She just shook her helm, still without meeting his optics. Shifting his position, he gave her only one warning, "I'm going to need to scan you again."

She flinched when the beam from his mediwrist started at her helm and moved down. A spark of annoyance surged over the EM field before she clamped down on it. "Thanks for the warning," she drily commented. 

He ignored her snark while he stared at the data. "Nothing seems too unusual," he muttered, and immediately he felt June tense beside him. He widened his optics when a surge of emotions crashed over him but then was abruptly cut off.

"Soooo," June finally looked at him, her face deceptively blank. "Why can't I move my legs if- ...if everything is… working?"

"I have a theory," he just as blandly returned. Standing up, he gestured, "Move your struts. I want to see your full range of motion."

"My  _ what? _ " June asked hotly.

"Arms," Ratchet quickly found the right translation.

Mollified, June then stuck her right arm straight out then pinwheeled it forward and backward. Ratchet moved around her for inspection. Everything  _ looked _ to be moving smoothly. No pauses or jerks whatsoever. When he was satisfied he tapped her other shoulder, and understanding him, she dropped her right arm and raised her left. As she moved through the exercises, again he was struck by how fluidly she moved. 

He almost huffed. It must be nice to have such a young body. But then he froze. He had almost forgotten, but  _ he _ had a startlingly young body now too. He had managed to hike all the way here without any pain, and immediately set to work on, though not terribly strenuous, a laborious task.

June froze as well, worry and hesitance creeping into her faceplates. Slowly, she lowered her arm. "Is… something wrong?"

That snapped Ratchet out of his thoughts. "No," he gushed, "No, no. I just… had an idea." Before he could back out, he explained. With a short gesture to her, he said, "That frame would be considered an Adult Femme type, but to be honest I’m having a difficult time determining if it’s a ground or flight type. But regardless, it's in highly pristine condition. Perfect even, which is unheard of."

June gave him a flat look, and Ratchet sighed.

"Cybertronians are able to add and replace parts of their frame quite easily, but some parts, such as the spark chamber, can never be replaced and so are worn down over time. In your case you have a perfect frame with absolutely no wear on any part, spark chamber included. Everything is, in fact, new."

Most, if not all, Cybertronians would have rejoiced at such news, but June just grimaced. Ratchet refused to let her dwell on her thoughts for long. 

"In other words, you're a sparkling in an adult frame. What comes naturally to an adult after vorns of growing up is difficult for a new sparkling to grasp simply because of the experience gap."

June scoffed, "So, what, you're saying I'm a toddler and I have to crawl before I can walk?"

"Motor functions," Ratchet nodded, referring back to their earlier conversation. "Though a little different from what your medical terminology states. This challenge isn't one so much as physical as it is… mental."

June gave him another look. "Then that isn't motor function," she argued. 

Holding up his hands peaceably, he stated, "I understand, but please bare with my stumbling. It's difficult to explain these concepts when human language can't fully express it."

She looked a little off-put by his statement, but stayed silent. Sensing his que to go, he continued. 

"Cybertronian physiology is greatly linked to our processor. A lot of our movement is dictated by… what I guess you could say is secondary active thought. Walking, for example, will always be a more conscious action for a Cybertronian than a human as our leg struts, pistons, bearings, and wires are not as compact under our frame as I suspect organic muscle is under skin. This… looseness forces us to pay better attention to where everything is and how it's moving so we don't injure ourselves. Of course, over time and with experience it becomes 'second nature' and moves closer to background processing. But movement will never be as an unconscious effort as it… was before. That's the theory, I guess."

Ratchet pattered off as he wound up the explanation. Carefully, he watched June for any sign of reaction. She, in turn, stared at him with her deep blue optics for what seemed like an impossibly long time.

Eventually she vented and said, "So a third state between conscious and unconscious? Is such a thing even possible? How does one maintain that?"

Ratchet just shrugged his shoulders. "For lack of better terms, yes. And not impossible, as I'm doing it right now."

June merely pressed her lips into a frown.

"It takes practice," he assured her. "Which leads me back to my point that you are essentially a sparkling. Your systems have not yet been… exercised to the point where they can be regulated to… secondary processing."

"So what do I do?" She asked with a hint of bitterness.

Ratchet was ready with his reply, "Practice moving your energon where it already can." Bending down he grasped one of her servos. Faintly tracing from her wrist, up her arm, down to her spark chamber, then back up to her other arm and opposite wrist, he explained, "Just try to build up a ball of power in one wrist and then steadily move it in this direction and back again. That should get you used to the idea of energon and its pathways."

She still looked pensively at her servos, but eventually vented lowely. "Fine," June conceded. "I'll try that."

Ratchet didn't smile, but he was elated at her progress. With a stiff nod, he stood back up. "I need to get back to helping Wheeljack. Just… do what you can, June. I'm here to help you along the way."

She glanced up at him, a ghost of a smile gracing her face in thanks. Ratchet walked away feeling lighter than he had in vorns, but he chalked it up to whatever voodoo the Omega Lock had casted over him.

"How'd it go?" Wheeljack asked without looking up.

"As good as can be expected," the medic gruffly replied as he took up his own work. "Sparklings," he swore half in awe, "this is so surreal."

* * *

“This is so unreal,” June moaned as she stared at her hand. As she concentrated, she felt pressure build up in the palm of her hand and around her wrist. It faintly reminded her of a blood pressure test, but instead of the pressure building around the bicep, it was centered in her wrist. It was an almost itchy sensation but she didn’t want to scratch at it. The sensation of fingertips moving across smooth but springy skin was no longer there. Instead it was smooth, hard metal, like the hood of her car. Warm, too. 

She knew Cybertronians were living metal. And her close contact with them previously showed that they were a homeothermic species, though Ratchet once explained that their metal frames could still be greatly affected by their environment. Right now she could feel it; the warmth of the sun. It was pleasant, much different than the darkness of the Autobot base. And it warmed her metal skin to a comfortable temperature.  _ Plating, I suppose _ , June thought as she continued to stare at her hand.

The pressure continued to rise almost to the point of it being painful. It was then she took a deep breath and imagined that pressure move from her hand to her elbow. It was so startling when it did that she lost control and jerked.

With a huff, she realized she would have to start over. “Crazy,” she muttered as she prepared herself for that pounding sensation as she built up the energon again. It happened quicker this time, probably because the majority was still in her arm, but she could  _ feel _ it condense and become thicker at the point between her palm and wrist. Running on instinct, when she felt that she was ready to ‘move’ it again, she slowly thought of it crawling up her arm this time all the way up to her shoulder. The ache stayed there as she tried remembering where next Ratchet pointed.

Right, at her chest. Slowly, she inched it toward the center, not entirely sure how far down to go. It was when she felt the energon become blazing hot half a hand’s length from where her clavicle should be that she realized it was where her heart essentially was. That was good to know. She moved away from that glowing warmth as she realized she didn’t want her energon to be  _ too _ hot. Unsurprisingly, it moved quicker now that it was heated and she had to reign it in before it scattered across her other half. She wasted little time in zipping it down to her hand where she held it for a time. Her hand, in turn, almost seemed to vibrate with the extra energy. It was like she had taken a couple of shots of caffeine, but instead of spreading throughout her body it was centered in her hand. A little freaked out by the sensation she gently moved it back up her arm and across to the other side, again hitting that fuzzy warm spot but not bothering to stick around to build up any more heat. 

June lost track of how many times she passed the ball of energy from side to side before she became bored. She debated if it was a good idea to do more than what Ratchet pointed out, but boredom and the desire to make greater progress got the best of her. Right now she didn’t care to think about anything else. She spent so much time thinking before Ratchet came that it was driving her crazy. All she wanted to do right now was walk. If she could walk, then she could decide about what to do next. Like finding her son.

Shoving to the side her pang of loneliness and fear, she again concentrated on that ball of energy, which seemed to have grown bigger. She let it settle in her heart for a moment before slowly sliding it down. Diagrams of the human neurovasculature system popped into her head and she focused on running the energy down her inferior vena cava, right along the spine. She honestly wasn’t expecting anything. It was just an experiment. But when she got to where roughly she figured was the base of her spine the white hot energy exploded into a feisty, tingling sensation across her abdomen. She couldn’t stop the squeak of surprise from escaping her and she wiggled as that itchy sensation returned a hundredfold across her sides and hips. Furiously she rubbed at it for what little good it did. It wasn’t until she was at her knee that she realized she was getting that double sensation from  _ both _ nerve endings.

Cautiously, she pressed on her knee and felt that slight pinching sensation. Her fingers traveled up her thigh, where the touch only felt clearer. She then moved down her calf, frowning as her touch faded. It was certainly stronger than before, but nothing like when she touched her arms.

“Huh,” she breathed.

“June, are you OK?” Ratchet’s gruffly concerned voice asked behind her.

She whipped her head around and gave him a quivering smile. “Better, actually. I can feel my feet a little.”

To emphasize her point she pulled one leg out from her criss-cross. Slowly, as if she were in yoga class she moved her ankle to stretch and pull the leg. It was far slower than she liked, and a lot more jerky, but the mere fact that she could do it at all placed her squarely on cloud nine.

With a huff of relief, that may have been a laugh, she brought both hands to cradle her head as she laid down against the grass. It was weird. This was wild, unkempt grass that would have been up to her hips or higher, now was so small that if she tried running her fingers through it she was more likely to tear up clods of dirt instead. She knew because she already tried. 

A shadow fell over her and she peeked between her fingers to see the autobot medic hovering over her. “I’m fine,” she quickly assured him. “It’s just… I don’t know… I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Ratchet gave her an inscrutable look. “Well, you are making incredible progress. It takes most sparklings a vorn or two to gain adequate energon control.”

“Well, I’m an adult. I can think things through better than a kid.”

“As you’ve well demonstrated,” the surly medic said, though she got the feeling he was pressing down on his eagerness if the forcibly thinned lips were anything to go by. 

She dropped her hands to her sides and gazed up at the blue sky. It was a beautiful clear blue with only a few puffy clouds. The field they were in was part of a valley completely surrounded by mountains. If she had to take a guess, they were in the North-western United States, like Idaho or Washington. It was so very far from home and her heart clenched at the thought.

Her home was destroyed. Wheeljack had confirmed that soon after she had woken up and gotten past her  _ rightfully deserved _ panic attack. Her house itself didn’t matter much. It was cozy and they had lived there for over a decade, but the frame and its contents’ fate was of little consequence to her. She was far more worried about her son. Jack was all she needed to feel like home. He was what made everything about her life right and good. After all the stupid mistakes she had made in her lifetime, she was proud to say that Jack was not one of them. He was her greatest joy and treasure and though she felt he had grown up way too fast, he had grown to be down-right perfect.

She missed him. More than she ever thought possible.

“Is this real?” She found herself asking without permission.

“You still haven’t confirmed it yet?”

The posed query was surprisingly non-judgemental, but the mother was still startled. June was only half-aware she had asked a question and certainly wasn’t looking for any sort of response. Feeling forced to answer, she opened her mouth, but nothing came to mind. Uncomfortable with the way the Autobot stared at her, she pushed herself back into a sitting position, which is when her hand brushed against the grenade. Reverently, she picked it up. She recalled Wheeljack’s no-nonsense gaze when he shoved it into her hands with the order to choose. She might have been offended at his brusqueness any other day, but right then it was grounding. She… had a choice, but she was stuck in limbo because she was too afraid of the consequences of either option.

A gentle breeze blew over the valley and she couldn’t help but shiver. The air was perfectly pleasant, but that was just the problem. If she really was in a coma, then sensentations like this; the breeze, the sunshine, the fact that she could  _ smell _ the dusty, dry mountain air, should have been impossible. June had never heard of a patient recalling a dream as vivid as this in all her history in the medical field. This was just…  _ too real _ .

But the other option, the one staring her right in the face as she examined her metallic hands, was even more preposterous. How can one just… stop being human?

Clenching her fist around the incendiary device, she finally choked out her answer.

“Jack,” her voice caught in a strange, garbled whine. Taking a moment to compose herself, she dared to raise her eyes to the Autobot’s and explained firmly. “I need to find Jack. If- If I can just see him, talk with him, I can confirm whether or not this… that this is real.”

Ratchet was silent for a moment, but only just. He then exploded into a tirade. “But how will you find him? For all you know, he could have been caught up in that, that light! He-”

“He’s my  _ son! _ ” June lashed out. “My son… Jack- He, he has to have survived. Because if he- if he’s not here, then there’s absolutely no reason for me to  _ not _ set this thing off!”

When she swung the grenade to emphasize her point, she was surprised that Ratchet had already taken several large, quick steps back. A small part of her felt vindicated when she saw the grimace he wore, but before the feeling could last, a loud bang grabbed both their attention.

Wheeljack was perched precariously at the top of his ship and was waving around what looked like a welding torch. “Femme!” he bellowed, “Keep your field to yourself, @@@@!”

June narrowed her eyes at the unfamiliar clicks that came from the wrecker, and realized that it must have been some Cybertronian cursing. Then, the rest of what he said caught up to her. Flinching, she hung her head to breath deep. She didn’t know she had lost control like  _ that _ . Now Ratchet’s overreaction to her outburst made a little more sense. Most likely she had given him the Cybertronian equivalent of a faceslap.

“I- I’m sorry, Ratchet. Really, I-” She knew she should be hiccuping, but the sensation was  _ all wrong _ . Instead of her chest rising and falling in stuttering gasps, her entire throat tickled as a strange clicking throb. Uncaring, she dropped the genade back into her lap as she wrapped both hands around her throat.

This was wrong. 

This was all very wrong.

“Calm down, June.” 

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder and, even worse, a  _ pulse _ of what she could only describe as a calming caress. It bothered her but he didn’t stop, much to her ire. Eventually she gave up and when she dropped her hands she also dropped her defense. Weary, she let that all-too-real and foregin feeling wash over her. 

After a time June felt safe enough to speak. “I need to find him,” she pleaded. She put all her feelings and desperateness into her words. “I need to find my Jack.”

The hand slid down her arm until it rested on top of her own intertwined fingers.

“I know. We’ll find them. All of them.” Ratchet spoke with hushed promise.

How, she didn’t know. How could she possibly find her human son when she was, quite clearly, a metal giant. Ratchet was correct. If Jack was anywhere near Jasper,  _ which he should have been _ , then… Regardless, she had to try to find  _ some  _ evidence. That way, she could finally decide.

Inhaling one last time, June relaxed her shoulders but also straightened her back. “I’m- I’m going to keep working on that… on walking. You… should probably go back to helping Wheeljack.”

Her hands were given a gentle squeeze. “Don’t forget that I’m right here to help you, June.”

In response, June gave several hurried, but diffident nods. It was the best he was going to get, and he knew it. Slowly, he moved away and June was left to consider what came next.

“You can do this, June,” she whispered to herself as she adjusted the position of her legs with her hands. With a grimace she muttered, “You’ve been through worse, right? Maybe? Just… learn to walk. Easy-peasy. Then, then I’ll start running to Jack as fast as I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The way I see it, and I hope it was properly portrayed, is that Wheeljack is a Wrecker, (a Black Ops soldier) who can’t coddle weaknesses such as delusions because that’s the equivalent to a death sentence for himself and the team. His solution is to make the unstable ‘Bot choose to pull the trigger or not, usually within a certain time frame, forcing them to recognize their reality. He was being nice to June and giving her until Ratchet showed up, but like he said, he took out the detonator so she was never in any real, physical danger. Ratchet is aware of this extreme method of keeping ‘Bots sane, and though he thinks there are better ways he let it slide because it looked like it was doing some good. Obviously, don’t do this with a potentially suicidal person. Seek out proper, professional help, instead of relying on a random fanfiction writer for your source of information.


	8. Downfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to give a shout out to [StormFireGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormFireGirl/pseuds/StormFireGirl) here on AO3. She’s writing a great Transformer’s fic also titled [Brave New World](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811722). I read the first few chapters soon after they were first published and they helped inspire my own work. I had sadly forgotten about the story until recently, but I suspect that it is partly responsible for my own work’s title, though it’s still heavily based on Huxley’s novel. I feel that I should point out that I’m not trying to copy StormFireGirl’s work, or anyone else’s. I feel that her story is vastly different from mine, but it’s still quite entertaining, so you should go check it out!  
> -TFC

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

“‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings,’ is what Optimus Prime stood for. I also believe in that truth. So leave me the hell alone.”

\- Rumored quote from Wilhelmet Prime, First Prime of Earth

**Chapter 8: Downfall**

As soon as the groundbridge had snapped closed, Megatron turned heel and walked out of the laboratory. Nothing needed to be said for the other two mechs to follow him. When they were almost to the bridge, the Lord of the Decepticons tilted his head and inquired, “How soon until those nuclear weapons arrive?”

No words were spoken aloud, but the TIC gave his reply. Megatron gave a humm in response. His pace didn’t exactly quicken, but there was a steely vitality to his gate. Addressing the scientist, he asked, “Shockwave. I need to ask you to go back to Cybertron to guard the Omega Lock, as I need Starscream here for this next phase. I will be there shortly to activate it and require your expertise. The cyberforming of Earth is not as efficient as I hoped it would be.”

There was a long pause, before Shockwave nodded his head. “Understood. But, Lord Megatron, what is the purpose of converting this organic planet?”

Without breaking stride, the entrance to the bridge opened and the warlord and his entourage walked through. Clasping his servos behind his back, Megatron walked to the very front, leaving the other two behind. He stared at the vidscreen that currently showed the contrast of the desert land and cybermatter far below them. 

“Because, Shockwave,” Megtron purred, “this is the planet’s destiny. It was formed around the body of Unicron, the Chaos Bringer.”

If Shockwave was surprised by that revelation, he didn’t show it. Instead, he asked the next logical question, “And what of Cybertron?”

Megatron graced him with a backwards glance. “Our home planet will also be restored.”

“But not before?” There was the slightest waver of the mech’s antenna.

With a frown, Megatron turned back to the vidscreen. “The Autobot presence on this planet was an annoyance, but there was a lack of troops. If you recall, Optimus sent a plea to his fellow combatants to convene here. We’ve yet to see a significant force arrive, so we assume they have been waylaid. I do not wish to leave this stronghold unattended when the Autobot remnants  _ do _ come. In fact, I want to send a message. One that will be undeniable to all Cybertronians scattered amongst the stars.”

A space bridge opened up just behind Soundwave, and the TIC moved to the side to let the scientist though. Before leaving, Shockwave nodded his head and said with no inflection, “I understand.”

It wasn’t much more than a klick before Starscream scuttled through. Before he could open his intake to speak, Lord Megatron gave his orders. “Prepare your armada, Starscream. You are to clear out the NEST forces before the Omega Lock is fired again.”

“Yes, my liege.” Starscream looked all too excited for his next mission when he bowed. 

“For now, we wait,” Megatron continued as if he didn’t hear his SIC. “With this attack, the world will come to know and fear the might of the Decepticons.”

Without waiting for any flattering reply, the Lord brushed past his lessers and headed for the flight deck. He wanted to see this moment with his own optics and showcase his authority in the most befitting way possible. Silently, he began the countdown.

Eight klicks.

The last of the armada arrived on the flight deck and stood perfectly still in their designated rows. No one made a sound, but the air buzzed with excitement from flaring EM fields.  _ Soon _ , was the unspoken promise. Soon they would have total control over this planet.

Six klicks.

Three warheads appeared on the horizon from the south-west. They came fast for human standards, but Megatron had witnessed much more destructive powers on Cybertron.

Four klicks.

He scoffed. True, extremes in temperatures could severely damage a Cybertronian. The sun-like temperatures from a nuclear bomb could have been one of them, if the idiots hadn’t broadcasted their intentions all across their networks.

Two klicks.

A vicious grin appeared on his faceplates. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.  _ Everything  _ was falling into place.

One klick. 

A large ground bridge appeared just off the side of the ship engulfing the nuclear warheads and sending them to their pre-designated location.

Waiting barely a sparkbeat, Megatron began his speech. “I am Lord Megatron, Emperor of Destruction. Your petty attempt at assassinating me has failed,  _ humans _ . Thus you have sealed your fates,  _ fleshlings _ . The revered city of one of your great nations, Washington, D.C., crumbles as I speak.” He raised a servo into a tight fist as if he was crushing the city in his palm by his own power.

Then, he slowly unclasped it, in a false gesture of peace. His face morphed into a warped mockery of pity, while his voice took on a huskier tone. “Think of this not so much as an invasion of your planet, as you are not worth that effort, but rather a reformation. You do not stand a chance against the might of my Decepticon Armies, nor do you understand my glorious vision to advance our cause, through which this planet will play a significant part. 

“So fear me! Bow before me! Make some use of your pathetic lives before your short end. This is your fate. Whatever resistances that stand before me will be crushed...  _ mercilessly _ .”

Forming his servo into a tight fist, he rose it with the shout of, “Decepticons! Begin our assault! Transform, and Rise Up!”

* * *

“Sir! It looks like Soundwave opened a groundbridge before detonation. Waiting on confirmation of warhead location and possible detonation.”

“I can see that,” Lennox growled, but it wasn’t aimed at the private. That heavy feeling settled painfully in his stomach. He knew this attack was too straightforward. POTUS was too hasty,  _ higher command _ was far too hasty. Now Megatron  _ knew _ humans were after him directly, without the backup of the Autobots. 

The fallout from this was going to be catastrophic.

“Monitor all channels and coordinate with state-side bases. We need to know where those warheads went, ASAP!”

His order was barely given when a stiff technician shouted out, “Sir! Communications with D.C. have been cut-off!”

“Run diagnostics!” That pit of dread crawled up his spine in the worst possible way.

“I did, sir. Twice already.”

“Get a satellite aimed at the Capital. We need a live feed of the state of affairs there.”

“Sir, the Capital?”

“Do it!” he snapped. He didn’t have time to explain to anyone how Megatron was no fool. He wouldn’t send those warheads to just anywhere. 

There was a flurry of activity and the tension in the air wasn’t  _ almost  _ palpable: It could have been apparent to a dumb, deaf, and blind man. Lennox could smell the fear from his soldier’s sweat and hear the increasing anxiety from their escalating sharpness in relayed orders. He wanted to reassure them. Tell them that their families and friends were safe. But it would have been a false hope, and nothing was worse than to give a soldier any reason to relax at a time like this.

Lennox was raging within. His skin was stretched tight over his knuckles as his arms hung tense at his side. There were plenty of swear words he wanted to say right now, but only regret surfaced. He should have tried harder to convince the general,  _ the President _ , to redact the order. His gut  _ told _ him it was the wrong move. But military politics were beyond him. True, he was the Lieutenant Commander of a secret base of operations that worked a little outside the general chain of command, but the reality was, there was only so much he could do. The eggheads on The Hill were the ones to put the stamp on most of the operations. He just followed through with the commands the best he could and tried to play Switzerland between his men, the Autobots, and the annoyances like Galloway. 

“Sir! Incoming transmission… from-from the Decepticons...s-sir.” Lennox gave the techie a flat stare and the kid grimaced. He didn’t blame him. This was not a good thing. 

“Main screen.” The commander ordered through gritted teeth. 

Everyone was greeted with the bright blue sky. He was going to ask what was going on when he saw it; the nuclear warheads coming closer to whoever was recording this. It wasn’t until the video zoomed back that he realized it was coming from on top of the  _ Nemesis _ . With dread, he got a second look at the failure of an attack. But then Megatron’s voice came through loud and clear, and the video panned to center the warlord directly in the frame. 

The bastard looked as smug as ever, and Lennox  _ knew _ they had all been played. Icecold dread settled inside his heart when Washington was mentioned, and he heard several gasps from his men. He couldn’t dwell on it for long as next whitehot fury coursed through his veins as the rest of Megaton’s message played out.

_Like_ **hell** _he was going to bow before Megatron!_

Lennox was unaware, but as he stood resolutely before the tv screens, he was the perfect image of a patriotic soldier. Tall, with his back straight and his shoulders stiff, his hands were still curled in tight fists of righteous anger. His voice was filled with quiet resolution that gave those under his command something to hold on to during this unprecedented incursion.

“You heard him, soldiers. Megatron is making a push, and we are the task force that was created to stop him. We’ve been preparing for years, this is no time to act like cowards. Our families are counting on us. Our friends.  _ Every innocent on this planet _ is depending on  _ us _ to stop that bastard. We may be out of contact with D.C., but we have everything we need right here to stage a comeback. So let’s get to work.”

There was a moment of silence as the words sunk in. Slouched shoulders straightened a little. Worried frowns tightened into stern lines. A few nodded their heads in sagely gumption. Then, as if the heavy chains of their personal fears were broken, the place erupted into an unshakable chorus of “Yes, sir!”. Keyboards began to be pounded on with new vigor, voices were raised to relay commands and hope, while documents and files were passed around in careful coordination. 

It was only then that Lennox dared to look back at those under his command. Imperceptibly, his fingers twitched painfully as he attempted to unclasp them from behind his back. As scared as he was inside, he knew that to falter here would spell the demise of humanity. Megatron was a  _ terror _ . His only equal was out of contact. And Lennox knew,  _ knew _ that the Decepticon warlord wouldn’t have made a show like this if he didn’t have the power to back it up. Over the four years he had spent working with the Autobots and fighting Decepticons, he had learned that both respective leaders were shrewd and calculating. And that the escalation of one side would only end in the other reacting in equal measure; an unfortunate trait of all wars. 

This was no mere overextension on Megatron’s part. 

And that fact scared the Lieutenant Commander, more than he ever dared to show. 

During his raging thoughts and plotting strategies, and the absolute refusal to dwell on his two girls, one pervading question kept coming back to him:  _ Where was Optimus? _

“Sir! We got bogies in our airspace! They just appeared out of nowhere!”

The shout was like a gunshot in the command center. Only by virtue of years of experience Lennox restrained himself from jumping out of his skin. With anger, and hopefully not fear, flashing through his eyes, he barked, “Get our boys in the air  _ now! _ All non-essentials evac. We’re moving to Sierra-Zulu protocols.”

There were several wide eyes in the group, and even more paler faces, but luckily none stopped to think about that order. Promptly new sets of commands were sent over the lines and he watched with critical eyes at the video feeds coming in from all sectors of the island.

Lennox felt a cold presence sidle up to him, but he didn’t take his eyes off the screens. Matching the chill with his own brisk voice, he muttered, “I thought I said all non-essentials were to evacuate.”

Simmons just shrugged next to him, “Call me a greedy bastard, but I want a good look at some of those husks once your boys fight ‘em off. NEST hasn’t been letting me have as much access as I want lately.”

The commander just huffed. Somehow, even with an imminent alien invasion, the agent remained his irradicable self. But he would take it, and the compliment, for what it was.

“Megatron certainly doesn’t wait long, does he?”

“No, he does not,” Lennox sighed, recognizing the impossibility of ridding himself of the human quirk next to him. Already regretting his next words, he asked, “So what do you think his next play will be?”

The agent preened. “Really? What makes you think I would have any idea?”

“If you’re not going to be useful here, I’m shipping you out on the next evac, pronto,” Lennox growled. He didn’t have time to play these stupid games.

“You mean after he’s done sending his armada here?” The smile was wiped off the man’s face, his expression turning as dark as his hair. “He’ll want the rest of the world to  _ know _ he’s sticking around. Even if D.C. was washed away in a nuclear blast, he’ll do the same thing there as he did in Nevada with whatever new superweapon he’s got. Then the next big city after that. Perhaps London, Beijing, Moscow, or Dubai. Whichever place pisses him off the most.”

“We need to find that weapon and destroy it,” Lennox concluded.

“Understatement of the century. But first you’ll have to get past this little problem.”

_ ‘Little’ _ , he called it. There was nothing little about a force of more than forty enemy combatants flying in your airspace, doing tricks as if they owned the area. It sickened him. Over the course of their short conversation they had already lost five planes that managed to get off the ground and another three hangers were on fire. The entire base’s upper infrastructure was being torn to bits. The only reason he could barely hear the distant roars of battle was due to the layers of rock and soil above him. 

But still, he could hear them.

For the next ten minutes Lennox continued to watch as his soldiers fell in startling numbers, and he desperately shouted orders to maximize their dwindling chances. And when the last camera went offline, he decided enough was enough. He wasn’t suited for standing behind and giving the orders, when he should be out there fighting the good fight. With a heavy ache in his heart, he suited up, making sure to strap on double the amount of ammunition he normally carried. Unfortunately for him, the agent followed him like a lost puppy, grumbling all the way.

“It’s like the O.K. Corral,” the man muttered.

Lennox allowed himself an eye roll. Personally he thought their odds were far worse, but refrained from saying that outloud. “Feel free to stay in the command center, since you already made yourself at home there.”

“Nah, I can’t get anymore data with all the cameras out,” came the casual reply as the agent followed the commander and the few selected troops up the stairs.

The soldier gave himself one last deep breath to calm his mind before he gave the signal to open the door. Even though he braced himself, the impact of reaching the surface sunk deep when he was hit with a multitude of sensensations. First was the heatwave that washed over them. The pacific island was always hot, but this was magnitudes worse with the number of fires burning across the landscape. A couple of well-placed shots had decimated their fuel supply. Next was the smell of burning ozone and gasoline as the temperatures were increased with every destroyed plane and truck. Mixed in was the metallic scents of both energon and blood. With a sick sense of satisfaction, Lennox led his small group past a dead drone. His boys undoubtedly worked hard to bring that one down.

Spotting movement ahead, Lennox waved them to the side. It was another drone. It had plenty of scratches on its paint, but it looked unfazed as it kicked aside some wreckage. He was sorely tempted to call for an ambush, as it was clearly not paying attention to its surroundings, but no. That wasn’t their mission. He had to find his men, and bring them back into the safety of the bunker. They had utterly lost the surface, but in a last ditch effort, he hoped that if they stayed underground where it was difficult for the enemy's sensors to detect, they might escape further damage. He needed his men to survive for a counter-strike, whenever that happened. So quietly, regretfully, they crept away, searching for any living humans. There wasn’t much luck, though.

With his face pinched tighter with every step forward, Lennox tried desperately to not think of the personal files of the faces he recognized. Even worse, there were many they couldn’t identify, so it was with solemnity they gathered the dog tags one by one, filling their pockets with the tiny pieces of metal. Even Simmons had shut-up as his jaw seemed permanently locked in dissatisfaction. Lennox didn’t blame him. The sight was utterly horrifying. It was something he would never forget even if he happened to live for a thousand years.

When they came to a flipped jeep, Lennox paused. Then his heart dropped even lower, if it could do so. There, caught under its side, was his long-time friend, Epps. The man was there in Kuwait with him when this whole crazy adventure started. He was already a close friend when things were simpler, but their trust and friendship only deepened as they were plunged into the darker secrets of the government. Epps was stability in this chaos of alien proportions with his dry wit and quick thinking. And now... Lennox mourned the loss of his friend.

Silently, the medic he brought along on this search-and-rescue moved past him to kneel beside the jeep. Lennox had already turned away to scout for their next location when a voice in high excitement exclaimed, “He’s alive! And stable! Quick, we need to get him out from under the jeep.”

Instantly he was there bracing himself for the weight. On the other side he saw his men lift with him, while Simmons and the medic worked to pull Epps out. Once they were clear, the jeep fell back down and Lennox turned to hover over the group.

“Unconscious. Looks like a broken arm, but honestly not much else is wrong with him. Some first degree burns and nasty bruises, but nothing that won’t heal in time. He’s damn lucky,” was the medic’s clipped analysis. He pulled out a shot and without any hesitation punched his arm. A sedative, Lennox idly thought, and winced as he saw the broken arm. By the way it moved Epps was lucky it didn’t puncture through his skin. But it looked like a clean break. Swiftly, the medic pulled out more materials. Pointing to some nearby downed trees, he ordered, “Branches, now.”

Not needing to be told twice, two soldiers cut off proportionate branches and brought them back. Once he had them in his hands the medic went about setting the arm. The pain must have been incredible because that was when Epps flinched and moaned.

“Epps. Epps! Hey, man! Wake up!” Lennox shouted as loudly as he dared. His friend’s eyes fluttered. “That’s it. Com’on, man, don’t make me give you an order.”

When the medic moved on to wrapping the arm, Epps let out a louder whine. Frustrated, Lennox moved to tapping his face. “Wake up!” he ground out. “Shepard says you're fine. So get up.”

“Then… why… do I feel… like I... jusstt got… runnnover?” The soldier wheezed, taking generous time to ask. Lennox let him, knowing full-well how lucky they were to have anyone alive at all, let alone conscious.

“Probably because you were,” Simmons answered a bit too cheekily.

Epps cracked an eye open. “Whyshe he-re?” He slurred.

“Welcoming committee,” Lennox quipped. “Can you get up? We need to get you underground.”

“Mrghhhff!” Epps huffed when his shoulders were lifted in a not so subtle sign to get moving. Being propped up like he was it was likely the only reason anyone got any warning at all. Through his blurry vision Epps caught sight of a large purple object stalking toward them. With his eyes blown wide open, he shouted, “ _ 'Con _ !”

Lennox snapped his head up to see that they had been caught off guard. Quicker than thought, he dropped his friend, who thankfully didn’t protest his rough treatment, to grab the gun hanging off his shoulder and fired off several shots. The rest of his soldiers followed suit, but the Decepticon was unfazed. It simply brought its own arm up, and before Lennox could give the order to move, fired at them. 

Three short bursts were all it took to decimate their small team. His men screamed on either side of him as the ground around them exploded. Lennox was the unfortunate one to be hit in his chest with a shot. It was a low-powered one, he idly recognized, as it smacked dead center into his specialized armored flak jacket. It wouldn’t do much to an Autobot, but the superheated energon was still deadly to a human. As he went flying from the impact he couldn’t help but morbidly think that maybe Simmons’ research wasn’t all that bad. The specially crafted combat armor, a new design that was in the ending stages of testing, prevented an instant K.O. by dispersing the energy the best it could due to a complicated network of magnets and wires. But still, it burned like hell. When his back hit a tree, he blacked out.

* * *

Simmons was never about to admit the fact that he pissed his pants when that walking experiment snuck up on them. Oh no, he was way too busy trying to cock his gun and shouting profanities to have done something like that. And even when he felt the heat from the energon blast scorching his face and blinding his eyes, he certainly didn’t scream like a little girl. No. His claim to fame was that he was the first to recover from the attack.

“Shit! It got Lennox!”

Well, maybe second. The bone-headed idiot Epps was already moving to get on his feet. No doubt a new adrenaline rush was responsible for the feat, considering he was barely conscious less than a minute ago.

“The ‘Con!” Simmons snapped, flickering his eyes to the machine, fearing that any movement would spurr it to finish the job. Strangely enough, it seemed to have lost interest as it tilted it’s head back. In a moment it had transformed into a jet, and in it’s blast to defy gravity both he and Epps were flattened back to the ground.

The agent gave himself several moments to just breath. He was… alive. He had faced down a Decepticon and  _ lived _ . Something about it must have been hysterical because he heard laughter coming from somewhere. It wasn’t until he snorted that he realized  _ he  _ was the one laughing. Immediately, he stopped. Agents  _ do not _ laugh. Not unless they were trying to intimidate potential suspects, that is.

Slowly, he turned his head when he heard a groan. The medic, Shepard. He had dropped to the ground in an instinct to save the wounded below him, but it looked as if a stray rock from the explosion smacked him in the face. An unfortunately unlucky rock. Blood was pouring from his broken nose and a bruise was already forming under his eye.

Scrambling to his feet, Simmons ordered, “Get up soldier. Your expertise is needed.”

Shepard groaned in protest as he was pulled to his feet, but once standing he looked a little more alert. Bringing a hand to staunch the blood flow, he gave Simmons a questioning look.

“Lennox,” was his short answer. Already he moved to where he was pretty sure the commander was sent flying. It was made easy because Epps was tottering after his friend, so all he had to do was follow.

They arrived slower than he would have liked, but it’s not like he was keeping track of time all that well anyway. Shoot, this is why he liked being an agent. Running around, getting caught up in explosions was  _ not _ how he wanted to spend his day. He much preferred analyzing the cases and ordering others to go do the ‘fun, action-y’ parts.

“Well, looks like the new design worked well enough,” was his comment when he saw the mess before them.

“Yeah, everything’s just peachy,” Epps muttered as he carefully knelt on his commander’s right side.

Simmons was tempted to reply, but there wasn’t a point. The soldier just wouldn’t understand how  _ lucky _ Lennox was to not be a burnt husk, because  _ oh _ , he was too  _ angry  _ and  _ emotional  _ right now.

Idly, he watched the medic check the commander’s pulse then flash a light into his eyes and check for a reaction. Regardless of what the medic did, Lennox did not respond. Bright, sticky blood oozed down his burnt neck and cheek, but there was at least an ever so faint rise and fall to the commander’s chest.

With a swear, Shepard stated, “Hit his head,  _ hard _ . I need to take the helmet off.”

Carefully, Shepard and Epps eased the unconscious man forward and started unclipping his armor. It was then a branch snapped in the suddenly too-quiet grove, and all three whirled to face the threat. A wet cough settled their nerves and a moment later, one of the other soldiers brought along for the search-and-rescue slumped against a tree.

“Found ya,” he muttered weakly with a strained smile.

“Since you’re walking, I’ll go back to helping the commander,” Shepard decided promptly.

“Even if I was unconscious, I’d rather you treat him over me, sir.”

With a critical eye, Simmons looked him over. He was young, and brash looking. The dirt and blood smeared over him didn’t help that assessment, but he at least had clear and determined eyes. He caught the name on the tag before returning to watch the medic work; Lieutenant Mitchell.

The field doctor had returned to taking the helmet off, but before he could even raise it halfway, Lennox began to twitch. The tremor was short but since it started in his shoulders, his whole body jerked. Then it was as if a dam had broken and the commander began convulsing.

“Shit! He’s gone into shock! We need to lay him down!”

Without hesitation, the medic placed a hand back behind Lennox’s neck while using his other arm to brace his chest. Epps followed suit the best he could with a busted arm, while the other two assisted by grasping Lennox’s legs and pulling him down and away from the tree. It was difficult with the commander unhelpfully kicking his legs in uncontrolled spasms. Simmons hissed when a knee punched him in the stomach. 

“Keep him still!” the medic ordered, as he desperately reached for his med-pack. He scrounged around far too long for the agent’s taste, as it was like he was wrestling with a vicious pig. A quick glance at the others showed the same exertion on their faces.

“Got it!” Shepard shouted in triumph. But just when he had latched onto his own twitching arm, an impossibly  _ bright _ and  _ white _ light engulfed them. 

It was so unexpected that all of them screamed and hunched over to block the light from their eyes as best they could. Simmons ran out of breath and still the light didn’t seem to recede in the slightest. Risking blindness, he cracked an eye to look around. What he saw was startling enough to force both eyes open despite the pain.

The dogtags they had collected were flying out of their pockets and converging against Lennox’s chest. It was such a weird abnormality that he almost didn’t register the burning pain running along his back and shoulder. But then it hit him with undeniable agony that he screamed again. Instinctively, he shrugged his shoulder and with a clatter his gun fell to the side. As if pulled by an unseen force the gun latched onto  _ Lennox’s _ side, and Simmons finally registered what was happening. Well, at least a small part of this madness. Lennox’s jacket was somehow magnetized, though that shouldn’t happen to an extent like this. This was  _ nothing  _ like what happened in the lab.

“The.. jacket!” He wheezed. It didn’t do much to alert the others though, as they were still too caught up in their own screams of torment to hear his quiet exclamation. 

Something else was wrong, he noticed belatedly. He couldn’t breath. Black spots covered his vision and he wondered if he was blacking out. With a rough cough, he spit and was startled by what he saw. His saliva wasn’t clear, or even bloody. It was deep black and shimmered metallic.

In a flash, he recognized what was happening.

“I was wrong,” he gasped in abject horror. “ _ This _ was Megatron’s next play.”

It was then he fully collapsed against Lennox’s leg, too tired and gasping for breath to care about the potentially awkward situation. The only thing he thought was that he should have tried to leave with the evacs, as at least then it likely would have been a quicker, less painful death.


	9. Close

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ve been working on this chapter for a while but I’m still not satisfied. I realize I’m not so good at writing scenery and I’m trying to work on that, but it still feels clunky. I hate putting in anything that isn’t pertinent to the flow of the story, and scenery tends to detract from the feelings I want to convey. But I tried. To make up for it I made sure to put in plenty of heartbreaking feels at the end there. Enjoy. >:D

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

We are, we are

Not your ordinary fami-mily

But we can all agree that

We are, we are

Close as close can be

So it don't matter what it looks like

We look perfect to me

We got every kind of love

I feel so lucky indeed

They can keep on talking

It don't matter to me cause

We are, we are family

…

Cause we come from everywhere

Searching for ones to care

Somehow we found it here

We found us a home

We are, we are

Not your ordinary fami-mily

But we can all agree that

We are, we are

Close as close can be

_ Music File #1866706, [Title: We Are (Family), Artist: Keke Palmer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egoqRX7tpZY) _

_ Move to: Public Archives  _

_ Move From: Confiscated Archives _

**Chapter 9: Close**

_ Warm _ , was the first sensation Jack recognized in the haze of his sleep. It was… nice, and comfortable. Minutely, he shifted under the blankets. Stubbornly he tried quashing that unease tickling at the back of his mind and forced himself back to dreaming. He couldn’t remember what the dream was, but it was pleasant. Certainly better than reality right now.

He frowned. What was wrong with reality? After thinking for a few seconds he decided it wasn’t worth the effort. He was tired. His body was aching for some reason. Rest is what he needed. Gently, he let that warmth and peace wash over him.

It took a beam of sunlight shining directly into his eyes to force him into consciousness. With a groan he wondered how his curtain had moved. Did mom come in and do that? She hadn’t done something like that in years. If she wanted him awake she would have gone with much louder methods. Grudgingly, he cracked his eyes open. It took him several blinks before he realized he wasn’t in his bedroom.

He sat up with a startled yelp, ramming his back into the plush headboard. His heart began racing as he took in his surroundings. It looked like he was in some fancy hotel. The bed he was in was probably the largest bed he had ever slept in, with sheets and comforters he was sure would have cost him several week’s worth of savings. Across from the bed was a wall with open entrances on either side. And against the wall was a sleek chest of drawers with a huge t.v. hanging above. He looked to the side, where next to him was a matching nightstand with a glass of ice water. By the looks of it, the water had been sitting there for a while, if the puddle on the tray was any indication.

Not hearing anything, he cautiously threw the covers off and swung his legs over the side. It was then he took a chance to examine himself. He was wearing a grey long sleeve shirt and sweatpants that clearly weren’t his. Both had brand logos that he didn’t recognize. His feet were covered in thick wool, but surprisingly soft socks, his hands were encased in warm gloves, and his head was topped with a snug beanie. Quickly he tugged off the gloves and could now see the bandages he felt earlier. Both hands were bandaged an inch past his wrists and he could also feel braces on both his elbows. When he brought a hand to take off the beanie, he winced. He seemed to have massive bruises on the front and back of his head. He frowned. He couldn’t remember how he got these injuries. In fact, the last thing he could remember was waiting outside the school entrance with Raf and Miko for the Autobots to come pick them up. So how did he end up here? Wherever  _ here  _ was?

Unease formed a pit in his stomach and deciding he needed more information, he stood up with a groan. Everything ached with a dull throb, and he wondered what happened to put him in such a state. Slowly, he hobbled to the doorway from where the sunlight was pouring through. Again, he was shocked at the modern opulence surrounding him. Before him was a suite. Where he was currently standing in was the living area, with a black modern couch and a glass coffee table situated before a wall-mounted t.v. In the back was a kitchenette in pristine condition. To the left of him was the second entrance to the bedroom, but also two doors. One he figured was the entrance to the suite and the other the bathroom.

On the right was a glass wall. There was a sliding door that led to a balcony that was so big it could almost be considered a terrace. He frowned. He didn’t recognize the buildings outside, but he was clearly in a big city. One large enough to have skyscrapers blocking his view. And disconcertingly, he was high enough to not see the ground from where he stood. The only reason he could see the sun was because it was setting and it was situated perfectly between two skyscrapers. Yet again, he wondered where he was.

Realizing he was truly alone he wandered to the two doors. The first he opened was the bathroom, and like everything else, was lavish in the modern sense. On one wall was a giant mirror reaching top to bottom and Jack couldn’t help flinching when he stood in front of it.

It wasn’t like he had changed. He was still a lanky teenager with dark hair and blue eyes. But his eyes were crusted, puffy, and encased in shadow. His face, mainly his forehead, was covered in yellow bruises. His lips were dry and cracking and he could taste a bit of the blood when he licked them. Deciding he saw enough, he turned away. 

With only a moment’s hesitation due to this being the absolute fanciest place he had ever been in, he went about his business. Strangely enough, he noticed that the plumbing struggled. It sputtered and hissed before a trickle of water came through the lines. Quite shocking, considering he figured a place like this should have had zero problems whatsoever. When he was almost done combing damp fingers through his hair, he heard a faint knock. A muffled call followed, and he hurriedly wiped his hands on the edge of his shirt and opened the bathroom door. 

At the same time he saw the other door open and he was given a short glimpse of the hallway. It was of course pristine and of the same overwhelming quality as the suite, but what startled him was the stern-looking guard, complete with a holstered gun, standing before the door across from his. The next moment though, he was greeted with a sunny smile from a drop-dead gorgeous woman.

“Hello there,” she said with a British accent that could have won them the war. “I apologize for barging in, but this is getting a little heavy.”

“S-sure. Whatever,” Jack stumbled, then mentally kicked himself for being an idiot.

The woman was unfazed as she brushed past him with another smile. And before he could get another look at the outside, the door slammed shut on its own. Gritting his teeth he turned back around to watch the bombshell blonde arrange the covered tray on the small island.

“I was told you were awake, so I thought I’d bring you something warm to eat,” she began in an all too casual way. “I wasn’t entirely sure what you would like, but from what the doctor was saying you should start with something warm and easy to stomach, so chicken noodle soup it is!”

Again she sent him the award-winning smile, and Jack was left feeling distinctly off-balance. When he realized he wasn’t in his room, this was not the first encounter he was expecting. Hesitantly, he made his way over to the island but didn’t move to sit down. He puckered his lips as he flickered his eyes between the steaming bowl of soup and bread and the woman standing across from him.

She quirked her perfect eyebrows in question, then gave a little gasp. “Oh, sorry! I never introduced myself. I’m Carly Spencer. Well, soon-to-be Gould.” Either unconsciously or on purpose, he wasn’t sure, Jack watched as she fiddled with a diamond ring on her finger before she stretched out her hand in greeting.

Taking it lightly, he gave his own name. “Jack. I’m… Jack Darby, and I have no idea what’s going on.”

She again raised her eyebrows, then her face morphed into a pout. “Really?” she sighed. “I was hoping you would have something to offer. The guards aren’t saying much other than to stay inside. It’s gotten crazy out there! Did you happen to see the broadcast before everything went out?”

Jack furrowed his own brows in confusion. “Broadcast?”

Her eyes got wide as she asked incredulously. “You’re kidding, right? ...You didn’t see it? Like, Twitter and Facebook were blowing up about it! Everyone’s in shock.”

When Jack shook his head ‘no’, she eagerly leaned over the island and whispered in a conspiring tone, “The President of the United States confirmed the existence of aliens! Can you believe that!” She was about to throw her head back and laugh, but then it looked as if she crossed herself and she returned back to her personal space and folded her arms. “Well, of course he would have to, considering that Nevada got hit by some freaky light from outer space. A… lot of people are missing.”

She looked up at this point to see that Jack had frozen in shock, his mouth slack jawed and his eyes wide in fear.

“Are… you OK? What’s wrong?” Quickly she moved around the island and touched him on his shoulder. Jack responded by bringing both hands to his head and dropping to the floor in a sudden crouch.

No.

No. _No_.

Nonononononononononononononononono.

By this point he could no longer hear her as things came back in horrifying snippets of clarity. Of being chased down and stuffed into glass tubes. Of screaming and pounding on the glass when he saw the Omega Lock fire. Of the absolute dread and selfish hope that simultaneously coursed through him when the keys were passed over. Of the freezing chill he couldn’t stave off as he sat there for hours, numb and sick. Of Miko screaming in rage. Of Bumblebee crying in his broken voice. Of Megatron’s mad laughter and spiteful tirade. Of those hateful red optics staring at him when he dared to defy the Decepticon Leader. Of Optimus groaning in pain when the Dark Star Saber was slowly pulled out of his chassis. 

_...Of Arcee falling and not getting back up. _

“Hey! Snap out of it!” A sharp femminine voice cut through his panic and a porcelain face filled his vision instead of Bulkhead’s sightless optics.

Desperately, he grabbed onto her arms and pleaded, “We- we have to get out of here!”

Pulling her to her feet, he was about to dash out of the room when he was tugged back. “Whoa! Slow down! I know that having the  _ President _ confirm that aliens exist is a little frightening, but you shouldn’t panic like this. Heaven knows Chicago is already in an uproar about it.”

“No, you don’t understand-”

A soft click interrupted Jack, and Carly looked up with a pinched face. “Busted,” she sighed as she dropped his arm. Strutting to the entrance she placed a winning smile on her face.

“Carly are you in- ah, you are.”

The woman didn’t answer but merely gave the man a peck on the cheek. Turning back around she waved a hand to Jack and said, “I heard our third guest was awake and figured he was peckish, so I brought him something to eat. Doctor’s orders you know.”

Jack stiffened under that dark, impassive stare and he felt his hands curl into tight fists. With a snarl he raged, “ _ You! _ How dare you!”

Carly blinked in surprise. “Jack?” she quietly asked. She moved as if to intercept the angry teenager, but the man caught her arm.

“Duchess, you should leave.” The man gave her a reassuring smile, but she only frowned. She opened her mouth to protest, but he gently pulled her towards the door. “It’ll be OK. I just need to have a few words with the boy. That’s all.”

She harrumphed, but conceded. Jabbing a perfectly manicured finger into his chest she said, “Fine. But I expect to be in the loop after this. You know I can’t stand being in the dark.”

“Of course.” The man gave her another smile, but Jack could see it for what it was, and he hated it. The two kissed, then the man shut the door behind her. When he had turned around the entire facade had been stripped away. 

“She doesn’t know.” 

It wasn't a question, but the man-  _ fiance _ \- nodded anyway. “Yes. I would appreciate it if you refrain from saying anything. She’s… delicate.”

Jack scoffed, “You mean you don't want her to find out that you're a  _ fragging traitor! _ ”

Quicker than Jack thought he would move, the man crossed the distance and curled hands around his neck. He struggled and gasped for air as words were hissed into his ear. “You may think of me as a traitor, but  _ I  _ am the one who is going to ensure humanity’s survival. So you had best listen to me,  _ boy. _ So when I tell you to keep your voice down,  _ keep it down _ .”

Jack was released and he stumbled back, wincing when he ran into the granite countertop. Wheezing he rubbed his throat and tried to forget all the reasons why it hurt so badly in the first place.

Continuing as if he hadn’t just choked a person, the man introduced himself cordially, “I’m Dylan Gould. You may have heard of me as I’m the CEO of Hotchkiss-Gould Investments. Well, was. Soon, my position will be a bit more... complicated.”

“Because the Decepticons are going to destroy the world. And you’re helping them,” Jack hissed as he straightened.

Dylan only rolled his eyes. “No, you idiot. I’m helping myself, along with all of humanity.”

“By kowtowing to Megatron!”

Jack’s head was sent spinning with a slap and he gasped in pain. Lowering his hand, Gould said in a cold voice, “What did I tell you about raising your voice?”

He took a step closer to Jack, and the teenager realized he was pinned. He snarled when his chin was gripped and he was forced to look at the jerk’s face.

“We all work for Megatron now,” came the chilling statement. “You’d best accept that, before you’re killed.”

“Maybe I’d rather die!” Jack spit. 

A flicker of fear crossed Dylan’s face before it was schooled into impassive fury. The businessman gritted his teeth and he looked at Jack with hooded eyes.

“ _ Don’t _ screw this up for me, kid,” he snapped. “I’ve got at least another forty years left to live, and I plan to live it to the fullest. Lord Megatron isn’t as unreasonable as you think he is. He assured me that he will set aside a place for humans to live,  _ as long _ as we don’t disobey him.”

“So just like that,” Jack cried, “Just like that you’re going to roll over and do as he says?  _ He doesn’t care about humans! _ He’s a monster! He killed his own planet-” He choked on his words as Dylan Gould continued to give him a blank stare. Swallowing away the dryness of his throat he viciously shoved away that eerie conversation he had with Megatron.

“And what else can we do?” Gould countered. He finally released Jack and took a casual half-step away from him. And with a broad gesture of his arm asked in a condescending sneer, “Fight back?”

“Yes!”

“With what? Nuclear warheads? That didn’t work. The EMP over D.C. was powerful enough to affect Chicago. Face it. Humans are weak.”

“But-” Jack stalled. There had to be  _ something _ .

“And I was informed that the Autobot leader had died.  _ Finally _ .” The last word was uttered so quietly that Jack was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it. But it shot waves of anger and grief through him like he couldn’t believe and Jack snapped his jaw shut so tight the sound echoed.

“Optimus was a good leader,” he defended, but it only sounded hollow and weak as an argument.

“ _ Was _ ,” the bastard caught on too quickly. “But I personally thought he was a nuisance as he and that human task force interrupted a number of my operations.”

“You fought against NEST?”

“Troublemakers, the lot of them.” It was said so flippantly that Jack had to do a double take.

Staring at the CEO investor for a long time, Jack then sighed. Speaking with an edge of despair, he stated quietly as the fact was truly starting to sink in, “You really are a traitor.”

Dylan stiffened under the accusation but immediately relaxed, though there was still a tightness to the way he gripped his arms across his chest. “As an investor, I’ve learned where to place my bets. I was given an offer I couldn’t refuse and that opportunity has granted me immeasurable benefits, the latest being that I can continue living.” There was a hint of spite at the end of his words before he composed himself. “The bet I made is paying off. Be grateful for it because it’s only due to that, that humanity even has a  _ chance  _ of continuing. So I’m really  _ not _ a traitor. I’m a  _ savior _ .”

Jack continued to stare at him dumbfounded. He looked the man up and down several times, but he was unable to process the lunacy spouting from this madman.

“You need some time,” Dylan turned around. Speaking over his shoulder he warned, “You should eat that while it’s still warm. You were suffering hypothermia and you haven’t fully recovered. Oh, and don’t wander around in the halls. There are guards posted outside your door. A safety precaution, as Chicago is in an uproar right now.”

Jack wanted to scoff. Yeah right it was a precaution. He was smart enough to realize he was a prisoner. It was a gilded cage no doubt, but a cage nonetheless.

He then jerked and took a stumbling step forward. “Wait!” He silently cursed how desperate he sounded, but continued on. He had to know. “Where are Miko and Raf?”

Dylan spared him a backwards glance before opening the door. “The other two children are in their own suites on this floor. You… are allowed to visit each other, but not for long. You’re all recovering and need your rest.”

Jack was then left alone.

Though his body was certainly feeling better,  _ warmer _ , his thoughts and emotions were in cold turmoil. He wanted to hit something, maybe even scream. But all he did was collapse on a barstool. Sinking his head to the countertop he curled his arms around it and sucked in a deep, deep breath. For a moment he thought he would burst into tears again but for some reason they wouldn’t come.

A stabbing ache filled his heart and he reviewed the earlier conversation he had with… Carly, was it? She had said something about Nevada. Nevada had been cyberformed, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why that was Megatron’s first target. Jasper, his home, was gone. The house he had grown up in, the highschool, the burger joint, it was all no doubt eradicated. And with it, all the people too. Jack had no idea how much time they had before the light hit them, or if they even had the inclination to leave, but by the way Carly spoke, there weren’t any survivors.

Mom was dead.

Mom was dead. And so was Sierra, and all his teachers, and his boss, and neighbors. Even Vince, the jerk, was dead. And Jack mourned every single one of them. It was a sharp, painful loss, but all he could do right now was sit there quietly, tormented by his worsening thoughts. They were all innocent in this. Their only crime was living peaceful lives near a secret military base that happened to house the Autobots. But that was reason enough to condemn them in Megatron’s eyes.

Jack didn’t know what he was supposed to do. 

Lazily, he lifted his eyes and saw the simple meal Carly was kind enough to bring him. Setting aside her ulterior motives of wanting someone to talk to and finding out some answers, she really was nice. The British woman really had no idea what was going on but wanted to help him anyway. And that weighed on him heavily. He felt dirty. Like his personal knowledge of recent events was going to condemn another innocent just because she talked to him.

Eventually his stomach gave way and he caved. Since it had cooled so much he didn’t bother blowing on the soup before shoving some into his mouth. It was good but it was lacking, though that may have just been the depression repressing his taste buds. He remembered his mom joking about secretly wanting to pour hot sauce on bland hospital food because emotionally distraught patients needed some spice in their life... or something like that. Jack almost choked on the bread when he thought of the memory. 

Mom. He missed her  _ so much _ .

Grudgingly, he brought the next spoonful to his mouth and swallowed. He didn't bother to taste it this time. There really wasn't a need. His body just needed the sustenance, he could care less where it came from. It would never be as good as mom's burned tofu. 

His stomach growled, and the hunger finally hit him. He hadn’t realized how famished he was. Faintly he recalled the last thing he ate was a half a granola bar he shared with his friends in front of the school while waiting for the ‘bots to show up.

Spurred on by his thoughts of Miko and Raf, he finished the meal in record time. When he walked to the door he hesitated. Would the guards stop him from leaving the room? He felt a swell of anger at the thought. He wasn’t a kid, and he certainly wasn’t a prisoner despite what Dylan Gould thought! With a deep breath he opened the door and took a half-step out.

The two guards in the dimly lit hall straightened as their focus shifted to Jack. He tried not to quiver under their judgemental stares, but spoke as politely as he could. “Um, I was told my friends were on this floor. Which rooms are they in?”

A short nod was passed between them and the guard standing opposite of Jack turned and produced a key which he then used to open the door he was guarding. Wasting no time Jack hurried over. Once unlocked, the guard pushed the door open and hastily stepped to the side. Thinking nothing of it, Jack moved past him only to stumble back when he saw a bright pink flash charging towards him.

“Whoa! Miko!” He yelped as he just barely dodged a highly dangerous kick aimed at his lower region.

“Jack?” She blinked while somehow managing to stay balanced on one foot. 

“Hey…” He winced, but he didn’t know what else to say in greeting.  _ Hi, sorry your best friend and guardian was killed. I hope you feel better. _ Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Thankfully he was spared from having to say anything more when he was suddenly glomped.

“I- I- I missed you. I’m-”

“It’s OK.” Not exactly what he wanted to say, because he really didn’t believe things were OK. But for now they were at least together. Relief flooded through him like he couldn’t believe. Returning the fierce hug, he mumbled, “You don’t have to say anything.”

She obliged and instead rested her forehead against his chest. If this was any other time, and a girl other than Miko, then Jack would have been blushing head to foot. But under the scrutiny of the guards and the faint tremors coming from his friend, Jack couldn’t feel anything but a seething hatred mixed with grief. If he could, he would have raged at the world. Screamed his hurt and fear away. But Miko was clinging to him and he didn't dare disturb this reunion, no matter how joyless, with his own selfish tantrum. His friend needed him. Miko was trying so hard not to break down, but Jack could feel his shirt getting wet. She was surprisingly quiet about it, but he could feel the hiccups emanating through her back from his fingers which were currently rubbing slow circles across her shoulders. 

Miko was a strong girl, he realized that now. Sure, an absolute pain in the neck at times, especially when she would recklessly run after the Autobots. But she was fearless. She even dared to threaten Megatron back when all those natural disasters were happening. But even this was way too much for a single girl to handle on her own. How long was Miko cooped up in that room, all by herself? Rubbing Miko’s back a moment longer, he then made the decision to ask for Raf.

“Is Raf in the next room?” He turned to the same guard as he gently pried Miko off.

The guard gave them both an impassive stare, then a short nod. Miko pretended that the guard wasn’t there as he brushed past her, instead she furiously scrubbed her face. It didn’t do much, Jack quietly noted, as fresh tears trailed down as she followed him into Raf’s room.

“Raf?” He quietly called out, so they wouldn’t startle the boy.

“In here,” a voice that definitely wasn’t Raf’s replied from the bedroom and the duo needed no other invitation. Like he thought, Carly was there, sitting on the edge of the rumpled bed with one arm embracing an exhausted looking Raf. A jolt of fear ran down Jack’s spine when he saw him. 

Awful wasn’t adequate enough to explain Raf’s condition. The good news was that his skin was his usual tan and his clothes were changed out, though they were several sizes too big. The rest of him, though, made Jack sick. Raf’s bandaged hands were curled tightly around the blankets and shivers ran up his arms. His mouth was open blankly, but it looked like he was barely breathing. His glasses were sitting on the nightstand so Jack could see his eyes clearly. The very blank, very  _ empty  _ eyes. 

Raf wasn’t home.

“I’ve managed to get him to sit up, but…” Carly looked lost as to what to do next.

“Oh, Raf.” Miko breathed, her own tears forgotten for the moment. Gently, she crawled onto the bed on his other side and wrapped her hands around his.

That elicited a reaction from him, but it scared Jack more than anything. A high pitched wine escaped the traumatized boy, but before they could say anything, he snapped his teeth together and clucked his tongue in a distinctive clicking pattern. Jack and Miko stiffened, while Carly went into her own panic.

“He’s done that several times now! I don’t know why he’s doing it. It’s- it’s-”

“He’s calling his friend.”

“What?”

“He’s calling for his friend,” Miko repeated and she only gripped his hands tighter. Jack felt his heart squeeze.

The whining and clicking continued and it seemed as if Raf wasn’t about to stop anytime soon. Jack could only stand there and watch the pitiful scene, lost in his own dark thoughts. The only warning he got before disaster was the stiffening of Miko’s shoulders. Dramatically, she rose Raf’s hands then flung them down, startling the boy enough to throw his shoulders and neck back while a higher whine escaped him.

“WAKE UP, RAF!” She screamed, startling Carly enough for her to slip off the bed.

“Miko-” Jack reached forward when she leaned over their friend. 

Spit flew from her mouth as she continued to rant. “Snap out of it!  _ Don’t _ give up on us, Rafael! We need you! We need you, Raf.”

Carly was the one to pull Miko away, but it looked like the girl had allowed her too, from Jack’s experience with the wildchild. But desperateness and fury continued to fuel her tirade, “Stop that Raf! ‘Bee can’t hear you!  _ Bumblebee isn’t here! _ ”

Her voice cracked just as Jack put a hand around her mouth. “Miko!” he shouted in reprimand, though he didn’t know why. ‘Bee clearly wasn’t here. None of the Autobots were. They couldn’t help. But maybe that was why Jack wanted to protect Raf. If Raf couldn’t face reality maybe… maybe that was for the best. Jack was barely holding it together as it was. He didn’t have to hear the actual pained words screamed by his tortured guardian- Oh Primus, what was it that ‘Bee had said?  _ What did Rafael hear? _

Before Carly could pull Miko completely off the bed, Jack moved. Gently he pried the woman’s hands off Miko’s slumped shoulders then practically shoved Miko forward. She let out a startled squeak and some of her anger dissipated as she landed next to Raf. Before she could move much, Jack had wrapped an arm around her back while his other reached for Raf.

“Don’t be angry,” he pleaded in a broken voice. “We’re together, at least. Please, Miko. And Raf… Rafael, we’re right here with you. Me and Miko are right here.”

His throat tightened to the point where it  _ hurt to breath _ and he had to take a moment to just concentrate on not choking. He felt Miko shift under him and an arm snaked around his waist.

“That’s right, Raf. You, me, an’ Jack. It’s always been us three troublemakers. So don’t break up the band. You  _ can’t _ break up the band.” Her voice quivered as she spoke in a much more hushed tone.

“Raf, we need you,” Jack forced out. Faintly he recognized his voice was wet and clogged and snot was running out of his nose, but he didn’t move to clear it away. Instead, he just bowed his head and gently brought Rafael closer into the hug. “Raf I- I promise that I’ll take care of you. Of both of you.”

Miko stiffened beside him and for a panicky moment he thought she just might pull away. But no, she didn’t say a word as she squeezed him and sunk deeper into the hug.

Jack was scared.

The Autobots were gone. Their families were gone. Megatron was probably out destroying the world right now, while they were trapped in a hotel controlled by a Decepticon sympathizer. He had no idea what was going to happen next, but silently he vowed he would do whatever he could to protect what was left of his family. He would protect Raf and Miko. It was his responsibility, and he would make sure he would succeed by whatever means necessary.

He would protect them from Megatron. 


	10. Become a medic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you all for your wonderful amazing comments! It’s so nice to hear from excited readers. I rely on your support more than you’ll know. You’re awesome!

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

I solemnly pledge myself to consecrate my life to the service of the ill and injured;

I will give to my teachers the respect and gratitude which is their due;

I will practice my profession with conscience and dignity;

The health of my patient will be my first consideration;

I will respect the secrets which are confided in me; I will not overstep my boundaries through invasive measures;

I will maintain by all the means in my power, the honour and the noble traditions of the medical profession;

I will come for the benefit of the sick, remaining free of all intentional injustice, of all harm, of all conflict, whether be they free or slaves, mech or femme, metallic or organic;

I will maintain the utmost respect for life; even under threat, I will not use my medical knowledge contrary to the laws or good conscience;

I will work with my fellow colleagues in helping to uplift and maintain these standards of life;

I make these promises solemnly, freely, and upon my honour.

\- The Medic’s Oath, (written and revised in 17 G.A.)

**Chapter 10: Become a medic**

“Steady, steady… good. Very good.”

June felt a swell of pride at her accomplishment. Ratchet’s praise also helped boost her spirits, though she was a bit put off by the subtle waves of encouragement he continued to send over the EM field. But maybe that was just more due to their close proximity. 

Currently he was helping her take her first few steps. His hands were gripped around her wrists and he was gently leading her closer to the spaceship. His long experience as a medic shined through, as he was infinitely patient with helping her at this critical moment. She had spent plenty of hours assisting people in the hospital so she recognized the perfectly calculated responses coming from the medic. It was both reassuring and annoying. But a lot of the annoyance was truthfully aimed at herself.

Walking really shouldn’t be this hard. But Ratchet’s earlier theories were proving closer to the mark than she thought possible. There was a certain  _ looseness _ to her body that was startling. She didn’t have a fear of falling apart, but there was an instinctual restraint she was aware of that kept her from moving too quickly. The best she could compare it too was the warning bells she might get before cramping set in, though cramps weren’t the sensation creeping into the corners of her mind. It was… a pressure, maybe? Too much pressure or was it too little?

As she shifted her weight to take the next step, relief eased in her mind. So, too much pressure then. Before she could relax, that same feeling began to build and she gritted her teeth. Curses, this was a lot more work than she thought it would be. She had hoped that once she could feel her feet well enough she could just walk. But  _ no _ , apparently sparklings needed to start slow. It was frustrating and she couldn’t help but huff in irritation.

“June, concentrate!”

She hissed as she teetered backward. Naturally, she shifted her heel back to compensate and that helped for the moment. But before she could praise herself a slight tug on her wrists was bringing her forward. Rolling with the motion she lifted her foot to take another step.

“Better,” was the medic’s curt reply.

She wanted to huff back but when she went for her next step, the foot standing firmly on the ground sank into the dirt. A short yelp was the only warning Ratchet got before the femme was crashing into him. Thankfully he was ready and he caught her easily. For his part, he managed to remain his stoic self while one arm had pinned her against his chest and the other held her other arm out to keep them both balanced. June didn’t fare as well, and she couldn’t stop emitting the wave of embarrassment from the clumsy mistake.

“It’s OK, June. You’ve made incredible progress. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about.”

She shifted awkwardly. A second wave of embarrassment crashed over her as she realized how intimate they might’ve looked with her head and hand pressed against his chest and his arm protectively embracing her. Swiftly, she cut that emotion off before anything drastic could come of it.

“Softer than I expected,” she murmured in honest surprise.

Ratchet eased her back and she somehow remained standing. He gave the ground a pensive look. “Yes, that is the trouble with organic planets. The landscape tends to shift under our pedes because of our weight.”

Not exactly what she meant, but she would happily roll with the out. 

“Are you saying I’m fat?” She asked in mock hurt, then burst into a giggle at Ratchet’s confused look.

“No…” He carefully answered as his optics flickered over her. “Though it’s a large frame, it’s fairly slim.”

June huffed and rolled her eyes. “Nevermind,” she quickly redacted, “It’s an Earth joke. Don’t worry about it.”

Ratchet just stared at her for a moment then let go of her hands. “Perhaps we should stop for a moment. We don’t want to overwork the new lines.”

June was about to protest, but a warning buzz in the back of her mind along with an annoying blinking line at the edge of her vision made her double-think that. “Fine,” she said, her good mood crushed. This was going  _ so slowly! _ But she knew better than the average person the need to not overexert the body if it couldn’t handle it. So grudgingly she let Ratchet ease her onto the ground.

She sighed as she ran a finger through the long grass, trying her best to not dig a trench. She wasn’t left alone in her thoughts for long, as Ratchet sat down next to her. She blinked at him in surprise as she had never seen the Autobot medic rest, which, now that she thought about it, had to be unhealthy.

He avoided her curious gaze by staring out at the distant mountains. She was tempted to speak to fill the silence but by his demeanor it looked like he was debating something. It would be best to let him broach the topic, she decided. A little less interested than before, she returned to running her fingers through the grass.

“June, I- I know you still are skeptic about this being reality…” Ratchet finally began in a low and slow tone.

She stiffened as a number of questions and doubts filled her mind, but she quietly let him continue.

“But for me, this is as real as it always is. I’ve lived too long and been through too much to not recognize the position I find myself in.”

June pinched her lips in displeasure and she could feel defensive walls building up around her.

“Ah, this isn’t a reprimand, June. I recognize that you need to come to your own conclusions and whatever I say will have little impact on that. But to get to my point, with the situation being what it is, I feel that there is great risk to you. As a... human, you understand little of cybertronian history, culture, even the nuances of the body. And having known you previously I can accept that. But when we meet any other cybertronians you’re at risk of, at best, only slightly offending them, but at worst being manipulated or seriously hurt.”

“You’re not painting a pretty picture here, Ratchet,” June fidgeted under the scrutiny. He was right, though. She knew nothing,  _ absolutely nothing _ about being a giant alien robot. ...Except that maybe she shouldn’t refer to herself as a robot. She certainly didn’t  _ feel  _ mechanical or… robotic.

“Just stating reality,” he returned unapologetically. “There’s not much I can do to help you, but… I do have one idea that can give you a- a leg up, as the saying goes.”

June waited, but when he wasn’t immediately forthcoming, she prompted, “And that is…”

“Become a medic, starting as an apprentice.”

It really could have been said more excitably, June privately thought, as the way he made it sound this was like a chore or a dead end. But she suspected this was an offer Ratchet wasn’t about to give to just anyone. Still, she raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes in surprise. Something like this was totally unexpected.

“But Ratchet,” she protested, “as you pointed out, I… don’t even know how to take care of  _ myself _ . How could I possibly attempt to take care of another?”

“You will learn,” was all he said, as if she hadn’t already just been busting her butt to take a couple measly steps,  _ with assistance _ mind you.

She opened her mouth to say as much, but he moved on. “I feel like you’re qualified enough already. You already dedicated your life to the human healing arts, I was… hoping you would do the same for cybertronians.”

June couldn’t protest that. Even though they were an alien species, the few times she saw the Autobots come back injured, she had the desire to step in and help where she could. She never did, as she realized that would have been way out of her league. But now? Being in this body made it impossible to help humans, but now she could help cybertronians. Bitterly, she thought it was a cruel twist of fate that she couldn’t help both no matter her condition. It had to be one or the other.

“I-” She hesitated. Pulling up her legs to her chest, she thought about it. Would she really turn away from the injured? The answer was no. That was clear to anyone who knew even the smallest bit about the nurse. But she wasn’t sure she could be dedicated to this, considering she wasn’t convinced this was reality.

Ratchet was persistent. After giving her a moment to think, he then moved on to another argument. “There are certain advantages to being a medic. Whatever… quirks you may have will be easily overlooked for your skill. You’ll be in less physical danger as everyone recognizes the need for a medic, though of course, you may still be manipulated depending on the situation.” He grimaced for a second, then wiped his face clean. “What I’m trying to say is, this isn’t your war, June. You never should have been caught up in it. Unfortunately, there are very few that will see it that way and unless you have some way to protect yourself, you’ll be taken advantage of. You’re not a fighter, you haven't spent eons in war, like most have. So this is the next best thing.”

June frowned. She felt the pressure rising up through her legs and she shifted again. Deciding to just be honest, she blurted, “But, Ratchet… I’m not sure if this is reality! I can’t guarantee that I’ll be dedicated to saving another if  _ I’m _ -” She abruptly cut herself off. The idea of saying it out loud was just taboo.

Apparently Ratchet had no qualms about taboos. “...If you’re feeling suicidal. Believe me, I understand that,” he said coldly. There was a hard snap with his jaw and a slight pull of the air as he breathed in. “But from my experience, June, the best way to save yourself is by helping others. I’m sure you know that, considering the profession you took up.”

June’s whole body went rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her own teeth. Bad memories from decades ago popped up in her mind that she struggled to shove away. “You don’t know me. You don’t know why I decided to become a nurse,” she snapped. Conscious of the last time she yelled at Ratchet, she made doubly sure that her field was pulled in tight.

The medic was unfazed. With a sigh, he said, “You’re right, I don’t. But I do know that those who truly pursue the medical field do so for the sole reason that they want to help others. I’m just trying to give you options, June. We don’t know how long it will take to find Jack and with Wheeljack’s ship out of commission, we’re an idle target.”

Folding her hands together, she squeezed her fingers in fear. “Do you… really think the Decepticons would… hurt me?” The intense stare the Autobot gave her sent chills down her spine and she couldn’t help flinching. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “You bear no Autobot insignia, so you won’t be the likely first target they shoot at. But I’ve known Megatron and his lackeys to do the most horrendous of crimes, and considering your affiliation with us there is the chance he will show little mercy.”

“And you really think claiming me to be a medic would change that?” June asked incredulously. The more and more she learned of this crazy, new reality, the less she wanted to be a part of it.

Ratchet sighed deeply. “Yes. As you can imagine, war has put a serious strain on resources. Good medics being one of them. Even Megatron wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to have even a basic medic on his side, regardless of their faction - or neutrality.” A fond look crossed his face and he continued in a far-away voice, “There was a particularly skilled medic who once treated both Megatron and Optimus just after they had seriously wounded each other, before reinforcements from either side could arrive. As he was a neutral, he was allowed to go free from both sides for his services. Of course, I’m sure there’s more to the story, but it just shows how greatly respected are those who take the profession seriously.”

With a groan, June laid down on the grass. Rubbing her forehead, she huffed. “You really are serious about me becoming a medic, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” 

That was it. Just a simple, forthright yes. Nothing more, and certainly nothing less from the iron-willed Autobot. Ratchet wasn’t being forceful, June knew him to be enough of a gentleman to let her make the decision. But he was making his intentions clear on the matter. It was… kind, in a way, but also overwhelming.

She sighed again and looked up to the sky. It was starting to turn gold as the sun began its descent behind the mountains. With a frown, she just realized something. “It’s… only been a day, hasn’t it? Just one day?” Her voice broke, and she was a bit startled by the static she heard..

“Just over twenty-two hours by my calculations.”

June merely moaned. How could her life change so radically in a day?  _ A day? _

“So question; how will others know I’m a medic, if say, I’m caught up in a… bad situation?”

“Like in a firefight? Simple. Your colors and symbols.”

She gave him a frown and waited for a better explanation. When he didn’t say anything else, she said, “Seriously. That’s it?”

Ratchet widened his eyes. “Oh, I forgot that humans are a little different.” Tilting his head, he gestured to his chest and explained, “Cybertronains paint their frames not only as a way to identify themselves, but also their profession. Of course during the war, individuality and professions became less important when compared to survival. But, think of it as the same as a uniform. Human doctors wear different clothing when compared to construction workers, correct?”

“True,” June started slowly, then her brows furrowed. “Are you saying that… I’m naked?” She was mortified by the thought, and feeling exposed, hastily sat up with her arms crossed against her chest.

In response, she received a flicker of amusement from the medic’s field. “No, you’re certainly not. I suppose the closest thing to what you may consider nudity would be to expose the protoform.”

“Protoform?” she interrupted.

“Metallic mesh and foam that binds the most sensitive of the wires. It’s hidden under the frame.”

“Ugh, I’m going to have to learn all new medical terminology, aren’t I? Good-bye, five years of university,” June whined dramatically, but she was secretly quite happy to find that she hadn’t been stark naked this whole time.

“There’s… a way to help with that,” Ratchet offered, though he seemed hesitant.

June tilted her head curiously. “How?”

“Information packets and P-2-P Transfer. It’s of course frowned upon in academies, and it can’t make up for real study or experience, but it should help immensely. That is, if you are willing to pursue the path.”

Looking at her hands, June clenched and unclenched them several times. She debated if she really needed more time to think about it, but realized she already had her answer. If this was a dream, and was at all accurate, then maybe there was a chance she could help the Autobots when she woke up. But if this was reality, then becoming a medic would only be the natural course of action. Ratchet was right, she went into nursing for a reason and ironically she would be going back into medicine for largely the same reasons. She was just in a different form this time.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me,” she said with a sad, lopsided smile. “I’ll become a medic.”

“Medic’s apprentice,” Ratchet said gruffly, though there was the barest of smiles on his face. “You’ve a long way to go before you’re considered a proper medic.”

“Right,” she drawled. “So where do we begin?”

“First, let’s get you into the ship.” Ratchet stood up and stretched. He leaned over and pulled June to her feet. She wobbled for a moment, but then found the right amount of pressure to send into her legs. She sighed when the warning bells in her head from the sudden movement quieted to dull reminders.

He continued, as they began their slow shuffle. “There I can attach the mediwrist and give you the paint job that will identify you as a medic. After that I’ll organize some information packets and we can do the P-2-P transfer.”

“Alright,” she replied distantly as her focus was on the ground beneath her. She really didn’t feel like sinking into the earth and causing an embarrassing situation again. “What’s a mediwrist?”

Ratchet paused to show the scanner that he had used on her several times. “It’s a tool medics use that is implanted onto the frame.”

June balked at that. “Wait, wait, wait. Slow down! You’re saying that you put a mini ct scanner  _ inside _ my arm?”

“It’s a mediwrist,” he corrected, blatantly ignoring her growing panic. “It’s the most basic of tools a medic uses.”

June opened her mouth to say what she felt about that, but she had no reliable argument as to refuse. The look the Autobot was giving her made her feel like she was a troubled child.

He sighed. “June,” he began, “You have to understand, you’re no longer organic. What seems strange or foregin to a human is perfectly natural to a cybertronian. Incorporating tools to our frames is one of those things.”

The former human tugged her other hand free to rub her opposite arm. “It’s just… I- that… Like you said, it’s weird! I just can’t instantly get over the idea of attaching scanners to my arm or… like what you did before when you just plugged into my brain!”

She just barely caught it out of the corner of her eye, but she knew Ratchet flinched. She swore there was almost an echo of an  _ uh-oh _ she felt over the field before the medic clamped down on his emotions. With wide eyes she snapped her head up. 

Grabbing her head, she squawked, “Ah! I forgot! You do that as a medic! You plug into people’s freakin’ brains!” She collapsed to the ground with her head between her legs. Something between a growl and a whine escaped her. She didn’t even know she could produce such a sound.

“Jun-”

“Quiet!” She snapped.

Oh heaven’s, what did she agree to!? This really  _ was  _ like starting med school all over again. The fear, the anxiety, the  _ Idon’twanttogothroughwiththisbutwhatchoicedoIhave _ was all horribly too familiar to the woman. It was almost enough to motivate her to find the grenade, wherever it got left. She took several deep breaths and focused on that fuzzy warm spot in her chest. She was a little too scattered to try that exercise Ratchet showed her but just feeling that steady, beating, warmth helped to cool her panic.

Slowly she brought her head up to meet Ratchet’s worried eyes. With another deep breath she said more seriously than that time when she was briefed by Agent Fowler about how her son got mixed up with giant aliens, “Ratchet, do you honestly believe that by becoming a medic I’ll… I’ll be… s-safer?”

The solemn look he gave her was answer enough, but he nodded anyway, and said, “Yes, with all things considered, I do believe that becoming a medic will be the right course of action.”

She let out her breath slowly and even more cautiously stood up from her crouch. “OK, then. OK, I’ll do it.” Deliberately, she took a firm step forward. Surprisingly, she didn’t wobble. Ratchet brought his hands up to help, but she just waved him off. 

“I need to do this-” she started, but of course the universe wasn’t about to let things go that smoothly. As her foot left the ground she only got an instant of the screaming warning bells in her head before she felt her knee buckle.

“Ah-h!” She squeaked as she landed against a steady arm.

“As admirable as your determination is,” Ratchet drawled as he near effortlessly lifted her to a proper standing position, “You still need to take things slow. As you pointed out, it’s only been about twenty-four hours since… your transformation.”

June merely hung her head. When her arms were tugged, she obediently shuffled forward. It wasn’t until they were nearly at the ship that she spoke.

“You know, when I first started med school, I couldn’t stand the sight of blood. I had such bad panic attacks that I had several professors tell me that I was in the wrong profession.”

Raising his opticbrows ever so slightly, Ratchet asked, “I never could have guessed. What made you continue?”

June refused to look up. “For Jack… aaand myself. We were- I was in a bad spot. I was young and stupid and ended up in a realtionship with a guy who-” She pattered off, too unwilling to say the extent of what occurred. But Ratchet was smart. She could feel the tiniest bit of protective anger coming from the Autobot when he pieced together her hesitance and its implications.

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. “He went to prison after I was sent to the hospital. This was just before Jack was born. I met an amazing nurse then, who, I-” She huffed a laugh, though there was the sense of disbelief and bitterness to it. “I guess you could say woke me up to reality. There was no way I could protect my baby if I couldn’t protect myself. She did what she could to patch me up physically but she also pushed me to take legal action against… him. It worked, but after a few years he was released on parole, and it was then that I decided it was best to move to someplace where he wouldn’t find us, which ended up being Jasper.

“Because I got into the relationship so early in life, I never went to college. When we were left on our own, I didn’t know what to do. I was floundering for what felt like forever. Eventually, I decided to go into nursing school, as there were plenty of jobs available, and I guess I wanted to help pay it forward for all the help I received from that one nurse.” 

Bitterly, she scoffed, “Of course, by that point I was so scared of seeing blood, specifically  _ my  _ blood, that I almost convinced myself that I couldn’t do it. But… I felt that I had to. The more I studied the more I realized how many others were in bad situations. I’m not smart enough or mentally tough enough to fight the legal battles day after day, but I knew I could help bring relief in other ways.”

June tilted her head up to see the spaceship right above them and pressed her lips together. Before Ratchet dropped her wrists, he brought them down to her hands and squeezed them lightly. A warm, comforting pulse was emitted from the medic, and she smiled at the gesture.

“You… are certainly a- a brave femme, June,” he stuttered.

June just shrugged as she eyed the lift lowering to the ground. “I just wanted to let you know that I may whine, and complain, and even ask the stupidest questions, but…” She suddenly focused her deep blue gaze on Ratchet and said solemnly, “I am serious about this. Focusing on becoming a nurse is what got me and Jack through that bad time then, I just hope the same will happen again.”

“Focusing your energies toward something you think worthwhile certainly helps,” Ratchet nodded as he led her onto the platform. June tensed as the lift jerked, but she was held steady by the mech. 

When inside, though, she didn’t relax. It was crowded between her, Ratchet, and the few boxes shoved to the side. In the tight space she heard Ratchet mumble, “Pack light.” He had turned to one of the containers and began shuffling through it and she watched curiously.

“What are you looking for?”

“The spare mediwrist. I know I saved it in one of these boxes.”

June peered curiously into one of them. “What’s it look like?”

“Rectangle and thin.”

She shuffled a few random things that she couldn’t possibly have names for until she saw something that reminded her of a wallet. It was quite small to her, but she figured if she was human sized, it would be the size of a bookshelf.  _ Small and thin. _ Trying to get troubling thoughts out of her mind, she turned around and asked, “Is this it?”

Ratchet’s eyes brightened when he saw it, “Yes.” She handed it over to his waiting hand, and he raised it for inspection. “It’s an old model, previously used, but it should still function.” He fiddled with it before it popped open showing a dark screen with what looked like buttons on the side.

“It doesn’t turn on?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Requires energon,” was his curt reply. He looked around the area and frowned. “We need to move some of this stuff out of the way.”

A few awkward minutes of pushing boxes and bumping into each other, the ship was turned into Ratchet’s temporary surgical center. June was sitting in the passenger seat, trying to clamp down on her anxiety. Her right arm was laying on top of several stacked boxes, her forearm facing the ceiling. 

“I’m going to need to plug into your medical port, June. This is surgery and I’m sure you don’t want to feel it, so I’ll need to turn off your pain receptors.”

She grit her teeth and huffed. “‘K. Is it going to be as insane as last time?”

“Probably,” Ratchet shrugged, though she couldn’t see him standing behind her.

“That’s not very comforting,” she grumbled.

“As a field medic I don’t have the pleasure of giving patients comfort.”

June pursed her lips at that. Ratchet couldn’t have had an easy life, living on the front lines like that. Tilting her head, she sighed, “Fine. Just… let’s just get started.”

“I’m not going to put you in stasis,” Ratchet warned as he pulled out energon cuffs and strapped her arm down, “as I believe watching this procedure will only help you. So that means I’ll need to tie your arm down to prevent you from moving.”

“Right,” she muttered. It wasn’t too outlandish of a request. Wiggly patients were dead patients, after all. Or a lawsuit.

June tried not to flinch when he stood up behind her and lightly touched the back of her neck. “I’m going to plug into your port, now. You’ll need to keep your firewalls down for me to work efficiently. I’ll run a systems check and probably go through some diagnostics, depending on what I find. It may take a few breams.”

Sitting ramrod straight, she mumbled through gritted teeth, “You know, by the way you’re speaking, you make me sound like a computer.”

“Merely a faulty translation into English. Using human medical terminology would inaccurately convey cybertronian medical procedures.”

June was about to reply that his explanation didn’t eliminate her fears of the use of software jargon, when all thoughts ceased to function. Ratchet had inserted the wire and that same invasive feeling had crashed over her. Clamping down on her panic, June twisted in her seat to avoid the sensation. Her arm, though, stayed right where it was.

“June.” It was said calmly, patiently and echoed annoyingly in her head. 

“I know,” she exhaled. She honestly didn’t mean to throw up defenses all over the place, but  _ blast it _ , this was  _ hard _ . Having that  _ other _ sharing the same mental space as her was by far the most uncomfortable experience she ever had. It was just so unhuman-like that she didn’t know what to make of it. It was like their EM fields had merged a hundred-fold. Intense was one way to put it, and it was downright impossible for her to not panic.

Bringing her free hand to her head, she mumbled, “H-how do I lower… the-the firewalllls?”

A soft hand rested on her shoulder, and the medic replied with his own question, “Do you trust me, June?”

“Wha-what?” A bit thrown off by the question, she turned her head best she could to look at him. “Yeah-yes. Yes. Yes, I do. Why... do you ask?”

Faint amusement rippled over the connection before it was replaced by what she could only identify as professional sternness. “This is just the normal reaction a medic might receive from someone who doesn’t trust them.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Ratchet,” she sighed. “It’s just… alien. Foregin. Strange. Something as a human I never could have conceived because it’s just…”

An iota of several different emotions were received, namely curiosity, sadness, and comfort, before Ratchet again pulled back. “As a cybertronian, I can’t imagine a life where I couldn’t feel others. I have to believe it would be quite… empty.”

“It’s not,” June quickly assured. “Humans express themselves in plenty of other ways.”

“Yes, but is it always truthful?”

June had to pause at that. “Well, no.” She thought for a minute, then asked, “If… if cybertronians can connect like this, then… then why....?”

“Why did our civil war escalate to the point where it destroyed our home planet?”

“Yeah…”

There was a long pause, long enough for June to turn her sights to the window before her. It seemed that the last of the sun’s golden glow was fading. The trees beyond were cloaked in shadow. Somehow, that seemed to make her current experience all the more dreamlike.

“I really don’t have an answer,” Ratchet finally sighed. “It seems that wherever there is intelligent life, there will be conflict. And that is due to differences of opinion, I suppose. Just because cybertronians can express themselves on a higher emotional level doesn’t mean that everyone will be accepting of those feelings. I believe that from that lack of acceptance can come corruption. You have to understand, June, that even as sentient beings we don’t always understand our own feelings. So doubts may arise when others project themselves because of personal insecurities.”

“You make it sound like you can deny your own feelings.”

“It’s not impossible,” Ratchet whispered. “In fact, I fear it’s become quite common over the course of this long war.”

June blinked several times at that. It’s not like humans didn’t do similar things. Withdrawing from others was something she had witnessed time and again at the hospital, especially from those who felt they were abandoned or had no life left to live. It was heartbreaking and quite literally, deadly. Research and experience had proven time and again that those who lost faith, whether it was in deity, family, society, or themselves, had much lower chances of recovery. To think that what was left of an entire civilization was probably suffering under similar circumstances was deeply heartbreaking.

“Thank you for your compassion, June.” Ratchet’s low rumble pulled her out of her thoughts. “It’s… refreshing.”

“Um…” She uttered unintelligently. Before she could think of a proper reply, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Or, more accurately, a lack of something. “Hey, what happened to the pop-up alerts?”

“I cleared them away,” the medic replied all too casually.

“Really? How?” she asked elatedly. It was only then she noticed that presence dipping in and out of her mind. Her eyes got wide and she almost whirled around to accuse the autobot doctor, but her braced arm prevented her from doing so.

“You sneaky jerk!” she cried, though there was no real heat behind her words. “You… distracted me! And got me talking… and thinking about other stuff.”

“Yes.”

She huffed. The least he could do was apologize. 

“I won’t apologize for doing my job,” Ratchet intoned, and she swore she felt ice touch her mind. “You let your firewalls down on your own quite easily. Which, in this case, is a very good thing. But for the future, you may want to work on improving your firewalls.”

“Uh, why? Won’t this just make your job easier?”

“War, June.”

“Oh.” Right, war. A thing that had started long before human civilization in a galaxy far, far away and it somehow found itself parked in her backyard. The thing that had flipped her life upside-down-and-backwards in just one day. Something that, as a side effect, had turned her into  _ this _ .

“Almost done,” Ratchet announced. “I’m just going to turn your pain receptors off. You’ll still be conscious, and you might still feel certain sensentations but they’ll be significantly dulled.”

“O-” She didn’t even get to finish when she felt him  _ flip  _ through  _ something _ and  _ click it _ , like she  _ was  _ a freaking computer and she could  _ feel  _ it when a key was smashed. Though in reality it seemed that Ratchet had gently tapped the key. She couldn’t stop the sense of revulsion though, no matter how gently Ratchet did his work. It was just fundamentally  _ wrong _ . 

“Weird,” she croaked. 

The way her body felt now was like she had taken a full dose, or two, of morphine. Her thoughts were still lucid, but her body was feeling strangely light. Curious, she dropped her hand to her thigh and tapped several times, trying to see how much it would take to actually feel it. Apparently a lot, if her ringing ears were accurate.

“I’m unplugging now.”

And just like everything else, June had zero time to brace herself. She couldn’t feel his fingers when he pulled away, but she did feel that mental pressure abate. Giving a sigh, she felt a little more like herself. But surprisingly, she found that it  _ was _ just a tiny bit destitute, having just herself for company.

She heard Ratchet move away and she looked to her right. A moment later he appeared within her sights and placed a tray on the edge of the boxes. In a professional tone he began a step-by-step account of the coming procedure that only served to make June’s head spin.

“I will first sanitize the area, then I’ll measure the space needed to fit the mediwrist, mark it, then use a saw blade to cut through the frame. Once I’ve taken away the metal frame, I’ll spend some time moving your lines and wires out of the way until we come to the protoform. Then I’ll use a scalpel to cut into your protoform so I can connect the wires directly to your systems so there will be no interference when you use the mediwrist. After minor adjustments, I’ll seal off the wound and weld the mediwrist into place. I’ll need to plug into your medical port after to both turn on your pain receptors and to give you administrative clearance as a medic. This is very important, as it is what gives you access to not only tools like the mediwrist, but allows you to bypass numerous functions when you eventually need to plug into a patient’s medical port. We’ll give your nanites a few hours to work on healing before we buff the area so there will be minimal scarring. After that, you’ll get your paint job. Wheeljack may not have quite enough for several full-body coats, but we’ll work with what we’ve got.”

June stared at Ratchet for what felt like a very long time. He waited, patient as always. She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “OK,” she burst. “Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh come on! I told myself this wasn’t going to be a romance fic, but the more I write of June and Ratchet’s interactions the more fluff I keep pulling out of the corners of my mind. *proceeds to hide the mutilated stuffed animals in a spare closet* I am determined to keep this story focused on the angst and drama! ...but fluff makes things better, right? Just don’t expect it to last long as things are going to be picking up after this.   
> And with this chapter we come to the end of a very long 24 hours. Phew, only took 10 chapters! Time will move quicker but I’ll try to keep things as clear as possible as the character POVs will continue to jump back and forth with the chapters. See you next time~!  
> -TFC


	11. Come home

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

“I stand here at the culmination of our history and I again declare to every Cybertronian that the war is over! 

Optimus Prime fell to my servo, and with it, his cause. Those that continue to resist me, to defy me, will be hunted and punished for their transgressions against Cybertron. But those that bend their knee to me, that swear their loyalties to me, will be greatly rewarded with new life.

Behold!

Here, on this planet, I have seen fit to restore our lives and livelihoods. I am in the midst of reformatting this organic planet into one that will be perfectly suitable for all Cybertronians. Observe...

In due time we will restore Cybertron itself. But until then, I give all my loyal Decepticons one final order; _Come home_.”

_\- Second Official Declaration of War’s End and The Call to Come Home , Historical Video File #1112578943, as found in the Public Archives_

**Chapter 11: Come home**

Megatron stared pensively at the Decepticon medic, who was furiously typing away at the keyboard. He knew his presence was making the flamboyant grounder nervous, but he didn’t particularly care. He needed answers.

“So…” he began in a slow, sinister hiss, “What. Is it?”

The Ashton Martin jumped, but managed to continue typing away. A high whine erupted from the medic’s engine, another mark to his anxiety.

“As impossible as it seems, my liege…” Knock-Out moved away from the console and grabbed the nearby scanner. Moving to the operating table, he waved the scanner again. “It… _is_ a new-spark. All the data suggests that this is a fully grown cybertronian, but… _new,_ in every sense of the word.”

The Lord of the Decepticons stayed eerily silent. Not even his EM field gave a hint as to his thoughts.

This was quite the unexpected development.

The few teams Starscream had sent out earlier to investigate the myriad of life signatures came back with startling reports. Unknown cybertronians were found at each location. They bore no insignia, not even a scratch mark. And his medic’s final analysis painted a very intriguing, very _disturbing_ picture.

“The Omega Lock,” was his only conclusion.

“The most logical assumption,” Knock-Out nodded, then shivered. “But it’s repugnant to think that a fleshy can become… not fleshy.”

“You truly have a way with words, Knock-Out,” Megatron rumbled absently as he approached the table and leaned over to get a better look at the mech.

It was of a smaller size than even the yellow autobot scout and seemed to lack any defensive armor. It wasn’t readily apparent, but it seemed that it was a flyer, but that would only be determined once it acquired an alt mode. Knock-Out concluded with his scans that it didn’t have any implants, though there seemed to be an abundance of redundant wires around it’s waist. When noted, the medic could only shrug and suggest a unique strain of CNA physiology.

“Yes, well, prose was never my strong point,” Knock-Out huffed.

Megatron couldn’t help the jab, “And yet you are rarely silent.”

The snap of denta brought a smile to his lips. Before his medic could sulk for too long, Megatron decided to change the subject. 

“His EM field, I can barely feel it.” To emphasize his point, he laid his large servo over the chassis of the mutant. It was there, but faint. Megatron almost had to extend his own to feel it. 

“Ah, I have a theory about that. All of the subjects are like this,” Knock-Out began with equal parts revolusion and excitement. “Which leads me to believe it’s a side-effect of their… change. It took me a while to find some files on new-spark development, as there hasn’t been a reason to look at them since-”

A sharp glare from the Decepticon Leader cut off the mouthy medic. 

“Er, well, the research said that in the early stages of development, the new-spark’s field struggles to maintain itself. That’s why carried sparks are usually more stable than forged or constructed ones. The presence of a fully developed spark essentially shelters it.”

“But it can still develop on it’s own?”

“Yes,” Knock-Out quickly confirmed. And he added with a wave of his servo, “It’ll have to. It’d be impossible to encase this spark in an EM field for a period long enough to help it’s development, as this _is_ a full-grown frame. Stretching a field for that long would just be too uncomfortable and could have some problematic side-effects.”

A hum was all Megatron granted the medic for the information. 

“And none of them have awoken? Surely that would help their field development.”

Knock-Out gave a long sigh in response. “Not one. I’ve tried everything I could think of, but none of the procedures seemed to do anything. It really is quite curious.”

Megatron returned his servo to his side, his curiosity with the curiosity curbed for the moment. With a frown he tilted his head. “I’ll ask Shockwave to assist you in this matter. He may have a creative idea as to what to do next.”

The medic was smart enough to not flare his own field with the suggestion, but a tight frown still appeared on his faceplates. “But… isn’t he busy inspecting that NEST island?”

“He’ll finish in due time,” Megatron replied blandly as he turned around to leave the medbay.

“As you wish, Lord Megatron.”

Megatron smiled at the acceptance as he strode out. Grudging acceptance, but it was acceptance nonetheless, which is all that he required.

He wandered the halls of the _Nemesis_ for a while, as he had much to think about. This discovery changed many things. He hadn’t considered that the Omega Lock would mutate the inhabitants of the planet. The thought was simultaneously disgusting and, dare-he-say, _hopeful_ . More tests would need to be done, but considering everything Knock-Out currently concluded, they may have just found a way to revive their species. It certainly wasn’t ideal. The concept that mutants would carry on their Cybertronian legacy was disconcerting, but that was overshadowed by the fact that his legacy _would_ carry on. With the lack of the Allspark, the Omega Lock appeared to be the only way to create new life. And Megatron would utilize it to its full potential.

Standing on the flight deck, Megatron looked down. It was glorious to behold. In the early shimmering light of pre-dawn, the fine grained cybermatter glittered. Sporadically, tall shapes of every kind cropped up from the ground, creating an abstract masterpiece. Making up his mind, Megatron commed his TIC about his intentions and without any delay stepped off the edge. With practiced ease he transformed and shot through the air with a burst of power. He made several large circles in the air as he slowly descended. 

Unsurprisingly, in his fourth turn he felt Soundwave’s approach. The only being he was willing to slow down for, Megatron angled his flight so Soundwave could share the airspace with him. Politely, the former gladiator and rival did so. Like usual, he was quiet, though his EM field buzzed with furor. Megatron couldn’t stop his own excitement, nor did he want to. In a rare moment, he allowed a burst of jubilation to explode across their fields. Smiling, the feelings were returned in Soundwave’s typical fashion; that is, quiet, but powerful.

Spying a good place to land, Megatron banked, with Soundwave right behind. There was a surge of gratification and wonder as he hovered in the air when he transformed. This was an important moment to him. The first time he would step on his hard-won world, the one _he_ created. It did not disappoint.

As soon as his pedes hit the ground it just felt _right._ With his weight, he sunk several inches into the gritty, metallic sand. He recalled the battle he had with Optimus on this very planet’s desert on the other side of the world. It was similar to this landscape but somehow it just seemed so primitive to the cybermatter laid out before him. At the time he didn’t bother to acknowledge its existence, beyond the calculations of how to best utilize the terrain to his advantage. Now though, his sensors were telling him just how _righteous_ this was.

Granted, unprocessed granules were not what the cities of Cybertron were made of. They were still a long way from rebuilding his empire, but this was a start.

Reverently, he bent to one knee and scooped some of the sand into his palm. It poured over his claws and he gently curled them to try and furtively catch the cascading grains. With unveiled awe, he spoke to his comrade, “Could you have imagined, Soundwave, of having accomplished anything as grand as this when in the court of Zeta?”

The answer was immediate. In a rare show of intimacy, Soundwave slid his visor away to reveal his deeply scarred face. The face was familiar to Megatron and he was one of the privileged few to recognize it. Slim and unremarkable, Soundwave’s face could have been a common sight back on Cybertron, if it wasn’t for the variety of grooves and pockets from the mech’s many battles. If he recalled correctly, Megatron himself had given Soundwave the nasty gashes spread around his right optic during one of the most famous gladiatorial battles in history. His servo had punched through the weak faceshield Soundwave had used back then and the falling pieces of glass had done significant damage; Enough for Megatron to maneuver himself into a position to win. 

In his deep, reverberating voice that had grating echoes from damaged parts, Soundwave gave the simple answer of, “No.”

Megatron grinned in response and opened his servo to let the few particles fall. Rising to his full height, he placed his servos on his hips and admired the view from where he stood. Beside him he heard the sound of disengagement and transformation, and in a second Laserbeak was flying around. The minicon did a quick circle around the two mechs before she twittered in excitement and went off to explore the ledges of the cliff they were standing on. Soundwave took a step forward to watch his charge flitter through the air. Something like a smile was on his face, though Megatron knew from personal experience that with so many scars it was difficult and painful to make too much expression.

Falling into personal meditation, Megatron gazed at the landscape. Silently, he vowed that he would never tire of doing so. This war had gone on for far too long, and even before then he had envied the higher casts and their beautiful cities. But somehow, this wild, untapped country he had founded himself filled him with more pride than capturing any of the Autobot capitals had ever done before. He wouldn’t just be building over the corrupt history of Cybertron, but he was forging a whole new world.

“I hope I can continue to rely on your services, Soundwave. The war may be over, but we still have a long road ahead of us.”

His TIC froze as he spoke, but as soon as he finished Soundwave turned around. His face had returned to a neutral position, but his red optics flashed in irritation. He fixed Megatron with a look and bringing a spindly servo to his sparkchamber he tapped it decisively.

“Promises,” he uttered lowly. Soundwave even dared to send over the equivalent of a finger-flick to show how offended he was by Megatron’s assumption.

If it was anyone else, Megatron would have struck them down for the insubordination. But this was Soundwave, the only mech capable of keeping up with him and his ideals. Megatron wasn’t about to lose him as well due to some misunderstanding.

Shifting his weight, he clasped his servos across his chest and gave his friend, comrade, former rival, and steadfast supporter, a short nod. “I understand,” he said just as quietly. Shifting his gaze to Laserbeak who seemed to be doing cartwheels for fun, he said so silently it was almost non-existent, “Thank you.”

Though he had pulled in his EM field, Soundwave still brushed against him. It was quick, but it was filled with an abundance of gratitude and assurances. Megatron debated whether he should remark about how sentimental Soundwave was becoming, but thought better of it. No doubt his former rival would quip back with something similar, considering Megatron wanted to seclusion right now for a reason. Instead, he returned to his current favorite diversion.

Looking around, he scanned the area with a more critical optic. Zooming in at one particular spot, Megatron then tilted his head. With a thoughtful humm emanating from his chest, he jumped into the air and transformed. Soundwave gave him a curious stare before snapping his visor and falling into place beside his leader. The silent shadow must have told Laserbeak to follow, because while the two mechs flew high, the minicon bounced happily along after them on the air currents just above the ground. 

It was barely a klick when Megatron approached his destination. It was a peculiar formation as it was much skinnier than the surrounding plateaus, but also much taller. He circled it twice, before shooting for the top and landing on the flat surface. His pedes landed on solid cybermatter, though by the echo his audio receivers picked up on it was hollow inside. 

After Soundwave had landed next to him, he wasted no time in asking, “What is this? It’s different from the surrounding landscape.”

His communications officer obliging looked around then nodded to himself. In a flash his visor communicated the answer.

“The point of impact,” Megatron whispered. He looked at the metal beneath his pedes then across the horizon. Yes, over there were the ruins of the Autobot base. A grin stretched across his face and he needed no more time to think it through. “Yes. Yes, here is where New Kaon will be. This is where I will place my throne; at the intersection of history that I created. There is no greater symbol of our lasting victory. This tower will be Darkmount, the court of my empire.”

Soundwave, ever silent, bowed his head in acknowledgement. Before Megatron’s words could even disappear into the wind, a suggestion came from his TIC. A very good one. The Lord of Decepticons tilted his head in amusement and replied, “Very well. Any suggestions as to where I should stand?”

Always thorough, Soundwave already had more than half of the production planned. With a spindly digit he pointed toward the rising sun and Megatron nodded in approval. Soundwave also had a number of scripts prepared, which he willingly offered for his master’s approval or dismissal. Megatron obligingly reviewed them. Many were eloquent and were clearly carried over from the Golden Era and the fights he had with the Council. Some were prepared from his rallies or pre-battle speeches, which were a little more to his liking. But nothing was quite what he wanted. He needed something to truly draw the attention and make his position irrefutable. Casting his eyes about, he then grinned. Of course. It was staring him in the face. 

With no hesitation, he dropped off the edge and transformed just long enough to slow his descent. Once he reached the ground he scooped up a giant servo-full of the cybermatter and deposited it into his subscape. And by the time he returned to the top, he knew exactly what to say. Taking out the sand with his borrowed arm, he positioned himself at an angle to Soundwave.

Without needing to be told that he was being recorded, Megatron began his speech. It was short to be sure, but it got the message across loud and clear. And like they planned, the sun was breaking over the horizon when he revealed the Prime’s arm. The dust glittered in a dazzling display as he let it slide from his palm and float away in the wind. And finally, _finally_ Megatron dared to utter the words every Cybertronian desperately wanted to hear.

“ _Come home._ ” 

Megatron stayed still as a statue for several astroseconds, waiting for Soundwave’s confirmation. The mech nodded in approval and Megatron dropped his arm. He turned around to face the morning sun and allowed a ripple of satisfaction to course through his field. 

“I expect this message to be sent out by the end of the joor, Soundwave. Our previous declaration of victory may not have been taken seriously. It’s imperative that our allies come to us in case of some ill-thought Autobot retaliation.”

Soundwave affirmed the request, and with nothing left to be said, summoned Laserbeak before returning to the ship. Megatron was left alone in peaceful silence atop the tower. He watched the slow rise of the sun as he sank deeper into his thoughts. His body may have been still, but his processor was working at lightning speed.

The Omega Lock was a truly powerful instrument. It both destroyed and created at the same time, an irony that was not lost on Megatron. Though he was sure Optimus’ offlining was surely not his last act of destruction, it did mark his release to begin _creating_ . It seemed that the insufferable false prime’s only duty was to prevent Megatron’s own progression. It was a long battle but Megatron- _Megatronus_ \- had always come out victorious. And this latest victory would only lead to many more in the form of new worlds and a restructuring of civilization.

Now, where to begin?

Megatron spent the next two joors simply standing still, allowing his systems a moment of idle rest as he contemplated his next moves. Long forgotten files were being pulled from the back of his processor. Memories and conversations flittered by, causing a terrible resurgence of emotions. Long-held dreams and optimistic ideals caused a certain ache in his spark and he vented heavily. No matter how many times he pushed them aside, memories of a certain shy archivist continued to appear. It was frustrating how many of the plans they had made together were still viable options. Just how much did they work together in an effort to change Cybertron? How many times had Megatronus sought out the inexperienced, but highly knowledgeable, mech? How much of his current position was due to his own struggles, and how much could be attributed to the Iaconian? If a foolish observer cared to comment on their relationship, one might suggest, to their utter peril, that Orion Pax created Megatron. 

It was Orion Pax that was the one to finally convince him to shorten his name, and not use it strictly as a tool for striking fear in the gladiatorial pits, but as a way to convince listeners of the namesake’s former purpose. It was Orion Pax that regaled with him that bit of lost lore and the tragedy of The Fallen. And it was Orion Pax who spent too much time searching for 'the better ending', as he called it, when few cybertronians barely believed in the old religion to begin with. It was those brazen eccentricities that peaked Megatronus' interest in the mech the first time. 

A ‘Tronian who not only questioned the state of affairs, but who had the historical evidence to back up his stance was exactly the boon Megatronus needed. Orion Pax was an eager idealist through and through, and one that Megatron had falsely believed had sided with him. Bitterly, the memory file of standing in the High Council Hall after being shamed and humiliated appeared. Gritting his denta, Megatron didn’t let that file slide. He held onto it, savagely ripping into it second by second as he relived that mockery of a hearing. The bored dismissal of the council member’s faces, the haughty, insufferable questioning, the boiling rage Megatron felt when having concluded on how deep the corruption truly ran. Of the well-deserved rage he flew into, only being kept from striking down the false Prime sitting smugly upon his throne by Orion’s soft-spoken intervention. Intervention that quickly spiraled out of Megatron’s servos when Orion was called to the stand. The argument that ensued after the meeting’s end between Megatron and Orion was not one witnessed by anyone, not even Soundwave, but everyone quickly knew of it. The utter betrayal of Orion’s speech, and worse, the Council’s approval and blatant manipulation of the guileless mech created a schism so deep between the two friends, that bored gossipers and journalists alike couldn’t resist adding their own spins to the tragedy. The number of mixed reports of Orion’s subsequent disappearance only fueled the rumormongers' fantasies, of which Megaton had to tirelingly deny each and every one. He honestly didn’t know where Orion went, and he honestly didn’t care. That wasn’t until in the midst of his revolution against Zeta Sentinel Prime and the corrupt council, that Orion had appeared, changed and very much _un_ like himself. 

When Megatron had the opportunity to question the apparently new Prime, it was difficult to fathom just how deep the corruption of Cybertron went. Megatron had been played for a fool, and this new Prime was just as false as the last. The innocence of Orion was warped into an adulteration of humility, and his idealism of righteousness had somehow turned against Megatron and accused _him_ of allowing harm to befall Cybertron. _Him!_ When Megatron had done nothing but attempt to cleanse Cybertron of the filth it was wallowing in. When it was clear to anyone with the semblance of intelligence that only _Megatron_ was fit to rule. That he was the only one capable to take on the burden of responsibility, as his vision was the only one to lead Cybertron back to its glorious freedom from tyranny. It was then Orio- _Optimus_ made the ludicrous declaration that would spark a civil war that would engulf their entire world and beyond. 

A comm request pulled Megatron from his darker musings. Soundwave was reporting in. Their message had been carefully crafted and sent out into space on all available open channels. It would be some time before they received results, though. Something else of interest had happened regarding the humans. Using the extensive resources at his command, Soundwave had determined that the world had been plunged into chaos, which was expected. What _wasn’t_ was the number of disbelieving commentators. The human internet was a heap of doubting publicizers, wholly bent on the denial of their existence. He was currently idly tracking down a few leads, but his suspicions were governmental tactics to help reverse the chaos.

Megatron scoffed. Human minds were weak. They would believe whatever nonsense was spouted, whether or not the facts were presented. It irked him. It reminded him too much of the blazeness of many cybertronians before the war. No one cared about the truth until their life was at stake. Only then might they consider facts, but then they would only choose that which granted their wishes in the easiest way possible. No one was brave enough to seek the answers for themselves.

With his energon warming to uncomfortable levels, Megatron’s vents automatically clicked on. He frowned when that happened, as he hadn’t even realized how irate he was becoming. _It should have been expected_ , he thought sullenly as he stared at the sun overhead. _Those memory files always bring out the worst in me._

He walked to the edge of the tower and gazed down. He could feel the reflection of the sun even at this height as each particle of cybermatter absorbed it’s rays. It had been a long time since his frame had been warmed like that and it brought a wave of nostalgia. In a few moments he had decided.

“Soundwave, set course for the European continent. If the humans are so adamant about denying our existence, then it’s only right that we show them who we are. Who knows? A few might believe before they die. Or are changed and forced to recognize the might of Cybertron.”

Soundwave’s response was immediate. He would obey, but there was a word of caution. Megatron scoffed, “NEST has already been taken care of. And you assured me that MECH doesn’t have the firepower for a frontal assault. If any human leaders have half a mind they’ll first look to this pathetic nation as an example before doing anything rash. So uncloak the ship and put it on full display. Send Knock-Out to Cybertron if he’s finished with his work, so Starscream can get the glory he so desperately wants as he flies in escort. That should curb his gall for the moment. Wait a moment.”

Tilting his head in curiosity, Megatron answered the incoming transmission from his head scientist. Soundwave had politely disabled his own, but he knew the spymaster was curious. 

With a purr, he answered, “Shockwave, what have you found? You wouldn’t have contacted me so early otherwise.”

“My Lord Megatron. I have concluded my initial analysis of the island and have taken proficient samples to begin properly analyzing the effects of the Omega Lock. I require the assistance of the _Nemesis_ and humbly ask that it come to the island for retrieval.”

Megatron quirked a brow in surprise. “Surely there cannot be so many samples that it can’t be transported through a groundbridge?”

There was a slight pause before Shockwave explained. If Megatron didn’t know the mech so long, he might have missed the quiver of amazement underlying the monotone airs. “There is… a combiner on this island. Unconscious. Perfectly intact. I do not believe it wise to leave it alone as it can make for a constructive case study.”

“Very well,” Megatron replied after a moment’s stunned silence. “Consider your request approved, Shockwave. Though I and the _Nemesis_ will arrive in little more than a solar cycle. There is… a need to consolidate my power on this planet before we continue any further.”

There was a pause as the mech contemplated his leader’s cryptic words, then the response he wanted. “Thank you, Lord Megatron. I patiently await your arrival.”

Their conversation ended, and Megatron stared greedily at the cybermatter below him. Truly, this world never ceased to surprise him. Relaying his orders to the ship, Megatron wasted no time in jumping into the air and transforming. He gave himself one grand circle to admire the view once again before entering the _Nemesis_. His time to dream was over. Now he needed to make those dreams a reality. 


	12. Stress-inducing Make-over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is a PSA of just two words; Covid-19 SUCKS!   
> I’m on the road to recovery, but I don’t care who you are, please don’t wish this sickness on anybody, no matter how much you may hate their guts. It’s not right, human, or even tolerable to wish someone with a potentially deadly disease. Be a better person.  
> I’ll put this here, since I don’t know where there will be a better time, but a lot of writing that I do is for myself. It’s how I explore real-life concepts, questions, and concerns. I do honestly try to avoid writing myself into the story, as that defeats the purpose of thematic exploration, but personal feelings on the current state of the world will be bluntly clear in some of the future plots. Again, that’s just me exploring my own personal beliefs on my views of the world. Political turmoil being one of them, as I’m just one of the millions of Americans confused by our… strange political climate.  
> So, feel free to go ahead and read this story as just an entertaining story. Or, once we get to the bulk of politics, feel free to politely state your feelings on such matters that crop up. I guess I just want to gain some different views without social media backlash. *sigh*  
> Anyway, on to the chapter.  
> (Oh, no idea when the next chapter will be out. I’m trying my best, but there’s been hiccups along the way.)

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

“It’s incredible to note that the tertiary sector brought in an estimated 12% increase in tax revenue in the decade after the Merciful Uprising, considering that the majority of this sector consists of industry centered on independent daubers and free-lance decal designers. I highly doubt that such an individual and artistic driven sector will ever truly become monopolized, I suspect that as this particular industry matures, only a select few names will become household familiars. I’ve spent a great deal of time interviewing and studying the current runner-ups, and the following is a worthwhile list of potential investments that are sure to drive the economy in the years ahead.”

\- Quote taken from  _ Stylish New Investment Opportunities from the Third Sector _ , from TheBusinessInsider: ADVANCE

**Chapter 12: Stress-inducing Make-over**

June wasn't happy. Of course it was difficult to be happy when overly stressed. Stress sucked out joy faster than her son could wolf down dinner. And June had been stressed for a long time. If it wasn't the job or mortgage payments, then it was Jack. Always Jack. Then Jack and his late night habits. Then Jack and his newfound friends. And it was  _ then _ June had discovered a whole new level of stress that she couldn’t previously imagine, after that terrifying incident with MECH. She really needed a therapist, but suspected that spilling military secrets would get her in a lot of trouble. Or taken to a mental institution, depending on how seriously the therapist took her.

But this? This was yet again a whole new layer of stress she didn't know existed, one she'd rather not experience. Having her body forcefully changed was shocking enough, but the process of making it presentable for other aliens to not immediately attack her was downright unbearable. 

After having woken from her short nap, _'recharge'_ Ratchet had called it, her surgery was deemed 'healed enough' for Ratchet to dive back into her brain, turn on her pain receptors, give her medical override permissions, and to do what he called DSC, a Data Storage Check. June _did_ _not_ like that one bit. Ratchet kept assuring her that he couldn’t see or understand the contents stored in her processor, and that he was just checking her limits and how many information packets she could reasonably hold at a time. 

Just to be clear, June  _ did not like it. _

It was a cross between a psych evaluation and an eye exam, all while standing before a panel of judges for an audition she didn't remember signing up for. Ratchet would ask her the randomest questions which ranged from high-level mathematical equations (high for a human, that is), to describing an average day, to what did she think of her mother? It was all very bizarre and June swore she could see her thoughts come to life sometimes, like it was on a faded t.v., especially if it was a powerful memory or something easy to visualize. It gave her a headache. And to make things worse, Ratchet spent long minutes between questions doing nothing but silently monitoring her. She wasn't left to her own thoughts, she knew because when her mind wandered she could  _ feel _ her grumpy companion trailing behind as a silent and judgemental observer. And the whole process took even longer because she would get freaked out and start randomly throwing up firewalls, which apparently messed up Ratchet's calculations. 

June just wanted to be done.

When Ratchet did finally pull away the sun was high in the sky and Wheeljack was back at pounding the walls of the ship which only worsened her headache. She was only given a short while to herself, since apparently Ratchet needed a break just as badly as she did. While the two Autobots then took turns at pounding on the poor ship to get it flightworthy, June practiced walking. She began with small, careful steps, always aware of where she next put her foot. She had to throw out her arms and pinwheel them a few times when she got too unsteady, but all in all, she made good progress. By the time she had managed to circle the aircraft the third time she was feeling much more confident, and normal. Definitely much more normal. True, this body was still foregin and she would be startled when the sun reflected brightly off her silver hands, but she was starting to feel much more like herself.

That was until the banging stopped and Wheeljack had disappeared inside the ship only to reappear with what were unmistakably paint cans, stained rags, and what she was pretty sure was an electric buffer. Warily she moved over to Ratchet’s side when he beckoned her.

“We need a break from fixing the  _ Jackhammer _ , so now is a good time to paint you,” he had explained.

It shouldn’t have been that bad, June reflected morosely. It’s  _ paint _ , for crying out loud. But they didn’t start with paint. To her utter horror, Wheeljack paused to pick up one more item before setting them all before Ratchet. A grinder. An honest-to-goodness everyday tool that was just being used on the freaking ship!

“Um…” June thought to protest. Her eyes got wider when she witnessed Wheeljack vigorously shake the particles off and blow on it to let the dust fly.

“Did the medical grade grinder not get packed?” Ratchet asked with annoyance.

“Had to pack light, Sunshine,” Wheeljack said with not a smidgen of remorse as he casually tossed the tool to the medic.

Ratchet fumbled in catching it and June didn’t need her newfound extra-sensory skills to know that he was irritated. She heard a strange sound, like wind whistling through a dryer vent, and it took her a moment to realize that it came from the old autobot. He was huffing in aggravation.

“Figured you’re the better one for that job,” the wrecker casually threw over his shoulder as he attempted to open the cans of paint.

“Quite right,” Ratchet agreed.

“Um…. What?” June’s eyes hadn’t left the grinder. They weren’t seriously going to use that on her, were they?

“Give me your arm, June.” The medic’s command was gruff and not meant to be disobeyed. 

June decided to take a step back instead and tuck her arms protectively over her chest. “What are you going to do?” She asked with a rising sense of panic.

“Healing after surgery can leave troublesome scars. We need to smooth out the metal before we paint it.”

“Grinders hurt!” June protested. She recalled a young man that once had to come into the emergency room after an accident with a grinder. It had taken nearly all the skin off his palm and had even cut into his wrist, causing a dangerous amount of blood loss. 

“Only if it’s used incorrectly,” Ratchet ground out. “I’m a professional. I do this all the time.” When June still wasn’t asuayed, he sighed, “Can you trust me June? Because if this doesn’t happen, you’re at a much higher risk of rust rot.”

“Rust rot?”

“A common condition that occurs when moisture condenses in scratches and grooves. Every cybertronian experiences it at least a little, and it’s generally not fatal. At least in small amounts. But it’s horribly itchy and can lead to greater problems. So. Give. Me. Your. Arm.”

June jumped a little at his tone and frowned. As she processed the information she decided that  _ rust rot _ sounded a lot like a rash. That was one more thing she didn’t need to worry about. But still,  _ that _ was a grinder. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” she growled as she grudgingly took a step forward and offered her arm. “But don’t freak out when I start freaking out and cut my arm off or something.”

Ratchet just scoffed. “Won’t happen,” he said, but his confident tone didn’t do anything to comfort the former human. After turning her arm this way and that, he nodded to himself. “It’ll be an easy job. You’ve healed nicely. Now, go sit on the ground. I need to sanitize this before I begin. No point in trying to prevent rust if we’re just going to introduce it with the tools we use.”

_ That _ , for some reason, made June feel better. Something as common as sanitizing the tools before a procedure was familiar protocol for the nurse. And comforting in the fact that Ratchet was a professional and was doing his best in this awful situation. Settling herself on the ground, she looked over to the open paint cans. One was a brilliant white and the other a bold red. Wheeljack was putting the lid back on the third one which she glimpsed was a startling green. That made her think. Tapping her toes together in debate, she plucked up her courage to ask.

“So, Wheeljack?”

“Huh?” Not bothering to look up from his struggle in getting the lid to lay flat, he grunted.

“Ratchet said that colors and symbols were important to cybertronians. I’m just curious, but what do your colors say about you?”

He froze for a moment. His EM field was tightly tucked around him, and he was facing away from her, so June couldn’t glean any information that way. She worried she overstepped her bounds. 

"I was an engineer. A good one. I was chiefly in charge of making STTs."

"STTs?" June asked with a furrow of brows. She thought what she heard was an acronym, but she couldn't be sure as there was an odd slurring to his speech. 

"Specialized Transforming Tools." Again there was the odd hiccup as if the English terms weren't quite accurate, but Wheeljack spoke slowly enough for June to parse it together. "Like the fancy doo-hickys Ratchet uses. My speciality crossed into the medical field quite a bit, though I was never trained specifically to be a medic."

"Huh, so that explains the red and white, right?"

"Yeah," he drawled, a bit self-satisfied when he finished his fight with the lid. "For the most part. Colors don't decide everything. Green was a personal choice."

Another thought occurred to June in the brief silence, and she had no qualms asking this time. Pulling her knees up to let Wheeljack walk past unhindered, she curiously stared at his arms and inquired, "So do you have any STTs? Since you invented them I'm sure you use the best."

Wheeljack nearly tripped over his own feet. Giving up against gravity, he let the paint can fall to the grass. He gave June a wide-eyed, aghast stare and said, "Pits, no! At least nothing beyond a basic, reliable weapons' system, and that’s only because I have to. Do you know how finicky and troublesome they can be? There's hardly a worse decision a cybertronian could make than to equip an STT!"

June was surprised by his reaction. The way he was looking at her was like she had just confessed to switching out the nursing home's pharmaceuticals for caffeine and sugar pills.

"It's that bad?" She asked doubtfully with raised brows.

"It is!"

"It is not!" Ratchet hollered as he exited the ship.

"It is!" Wheeljack insisted just as loudly. He was working himself into a frenzy, his paint can completely forgotten on the ground. "Most STTs have an average ninety-three point six percent failure rate at critical seams or joints. And improper initial installation can wreck havoc on the T-cog's inherent capabilities. And most installs are incompatible with the majority of frames, but mechs want them anyway because they think it's ‘cool’ and they completely forget that it's  _ specialized _ for a reason. But medics go ahead and install them anyway because-"

"And I'll stop you right there," Ratchet said cooly. He had just rolled his eyes when the wrecker began and moved to stand by June, but became suddenly hostile with Wheeljack’s leading accusations. "Not all medics were that greedy, thank you very much."

“ _ Still _ , they’re not something every Joe-schmoe off the street needs to have.”

“And I agree,” Ratchet replied in a much calmer voice. “Until the war.”

There was an odd sound, similar to how June’s old car groaned when she hit the gas pedal too hard and she blinked when Wheeljack flinched. He covered up his momentary slip of panic and aggression with a low mutter of, “Until the war.”

June opened her mouth to ask what the war had to do with their earlier topic, as the two had slipped into their native tounge, but immediately she closed it. This was obviously a touchy subject for both of them. So instead she decided to piece together their words on her own. 

It was strange. She knew she didn’t know Cybertronian. The few instances the ‘Bots spoke it around her left her bewildered. The sounds they made were certainly foregin, but she couldn’t deny it as a proper language as the cadence of sounds certainly had their own rhythm. She just had no idea how to interpret those sounds. She was no Raf. But something was different now. Instinctually she felt better hearing Cybertronian, but had no basis as to why that would be. And something else told her that with a little time, she would be able to speak the language of the aliens herself. The thought might have scared her if she didn’t stubbornly file the feelings away to pick apart another time. 

Ratchet was standing before her, looking expectantly. “Um, sorry, did you say something?” She asked worriedly, still wary about that grinder.

“We need to move away from the ship. We don’t want a stray spark hitting any leaked energon.”

June just stared dumbly at him before bringing a distinctly metal hand to her face. Slurring, she sighed wearily as she attempted to get up, “Sparksss…” Of course sparks were going to be a thing. She was now made of metal and they were going to use a freaking grinder on her. 

Catching Ratchet’s offered hand, she managed to finally get off the ground. And she allowed him to lead her with the ever slow and careful steps. She almost tripped, though, when a terrifying thought occurred to her.

“What do you guys do during a lightning storm!?”

Ratchet was unfazed. “We have little to fear from lightning, or electrical surges in general, because our EM field protects us.”

“So what, you guys never get shocked?”

“Not true. It’s just that random occurrences such as lightning have an extremely low probability of injuring us because of the EM field’s deflection and the body’s natural insulation. Weapons, on the other hand, like stasis prods do hurt and can cause any number of injuries.”

“Great. Remind me to never get on the wrong end of one of those,” June muttered as she settled herself back onto the ground.

Ratchet knelt next to her and lifted her arm for a better inspection. June failed to not tense and the medic picked up on her distress and frowned. “June, you’ll need to keep your EM field in check. The dampeners from the ship can only do so much from this distance.”

“Trying,” June returned just as gruffly. And she truly was, but as soon as the grinder was brought level to her arm she couldn’t stop the spike of fear.

Ratchet refused to comment and solely focused on his task. The electric grinder was flipped on with a single button push and June’s ears, or whatever passed for ears now, were filled with the whirring sound of the mechanical tool. Instinctively she closed her eyes, grit her teeth, and waited for the inevitable pain.

She first picked up on the sound. It was just as she expected. Loud and piercing and totally misplaced in the otherwise serene wilderness they were surrounded by. Next was the feeling. That too was excruciating, but in a totally different way.

Snapping her eyes open she saw the bright sparks bouncing from the point of contact. Her eyes confirmed it. That was a grinder. And it was currently smoothing out the few bumps that had formed on her… skin. But by all accounts it didn’t feel how a grinder should. Involuntarily, a shiver coursed through her and she slapped her free hand over her mouth to keep from making any embarrassing noises.

It felt… good.

The closest experience she could refer to the tingle moving across her arm was like an exfoliating scrub. A bit gritty and slightly uncomfortable at first, but quickly became a soothing sensation. And then it was over.

June just blinked when the grinder was pulled away and Ratchet leaned over to inspect his work. He turned her arm gently, allowing the sunlight to reflect off it at different angles, then nodded in satisfaction.

“Done,” he announced as he let go of her arm at the same time he turned the grinder off.

“That’s it?” June asked incredulously. She wasn’t sure if she was to be elated or disappointed that it was over so quickly.

“It was a simple job,” was Ratchet’s simple reply. He stood and stretched, before reaching down to offer his hand to her. “There really was nothing to fear.”

Taking a moment to bring her arm close to her face, June denied commenting. Of course Ratchet knew her misgivings of the procedure, but of course the crotchety old medic wouldn’t do much to allay those feelings. He preferred to just get the job done and over with. And to June’s untrained eyes, it looked to be a good job. The metal plating of her forearm now was completely smooth with a seamless line where the mediwrist was implanted. No ridges or ‘scaring’ to be seen. There was the streaking that she was familiar with on all metal that had been ground or buffed, but it could only be seen when the sunlight hit it in a certain direction. 

When she was done staring at her arm, she then put her hand in Ratchet’s and let him lead her back to the paint cans. Grudgingly, she admitted on their slow walk back, “It wasn’t quite what I expected.”

“I can’t imagine what it is that you were expecting,” Ratchet was kind enough to give her a glance, “but you need to come to realize, June, that a lot of human weaknesses just don’t exist for you anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t have weaknesses,” she countered back.

The Autobot was unfazed and with an unreadable expression he acknowledged, “Correct. In time you will learn what those weaknesses are and how to counteract them.”

June fell silent. The two stood next to the paint cans and Ratchet bent over to inspect them. “Considering our limited supply here,” he commented, “Looks like you’ll mostly be white.”

“No complaints there. What’s the first step?”

“A good primer,” Wheeljack growled as he walked out of the ship. He tossed another can towards Ratchet. June silently noted that the wrecker liked throwing things, and likewise Ratchet didn’t like catching them. “And we’re nearly out.”

With a worried frown, Ratchet opened the can and peered inside. With a deep sigh he said, “We’ll make do. Critical parts only then.”

“And those are?” June asked curiously.

“Struts and chassis. It would be easier if you had an alt-mode” Ratchet turned around and gave June a critical look-over before glancing back into the can. “Do you-”

“Right here.” Wheeljack materialized next to the medic, holding out some strange contraception June couldn’t immediately identify. Without another word Ratchet poured the primer into the… bottle? 

June tried to keep a tight lock on her apprehension. Yes, that was primer. It smelled just like the earth-based stuff, and she couldn’t help grimace. June was rather sensitive to smells like paint, gasoline, and the like. It always gave her a… She stopped and watched with interest. Even though she was standing right next to the paints and primer, none of it bothered her. She still didn’t like the smells, but they weren’t negatively affecting her either. Huh, well, she could mark that as one positive change in this crazy situation.

When commanded, she held out one arm and tried to relax. This stuff wouldn't hurt. It would be fine. Then Ratchet began spraying. June couldn’t stop the shiver.

“Don’t move!” Wheeljack barked, clearly annoyed. “We can’t waste the stuff.”

June squeaked, “Right, right. Sorry.” Honestly though, it was just like being sprayed down with a light mist. And when Ratchet was finished with one arm he moved to the other, which created a problem. Tired of holding her arm up, She began to let it down, only for Wheeljack to bark at her again.

“Don’t put your strut down! It needs to dry.”

“Seriously? But-”

“No buts,” Ratchet spoke in monotone, clearly focused on not wasting a drop.

June sighed in exasperation but obediently tried keeping her arm up as long as she could. It was difficult though. Her arms were really starting to shake. And she couldn’t stop tapping her heel impatiently.

“Stop that,” Ratchet growled.

“Stop what?”

“The tapping.”

“Oh.”

June stopped. But an urge welled up inside her and she twitched and twisted as Ratchet moved to spray her chest. A new sense of uncomfortableness came over her and she instinctively leaned away. Ratchet narrowing his eyes and the feeling of being irked stopped her from taking a full step back. She decided to close her eyes for this next part and desperately tried focusing on something else.

Jack? No, no, that was a bad trail to go down. Work? Nope. She obviously couldn’t go back to the local hospital. June frowned at that. She had agreed to become Ratchet’s apprentice, but to what end? To be a worthwhile medical practitioner there had to be patients. And as far she was aware, the only two autobots on Earth were right next to her. Did that mean… she would have to leave Earth?

That thought terrified her. Humans were just discovering space. And she was certainly no astronaut. She knew nothing about the wonders of the universe. How could she leave Earth, her home? And what about Jack? There was not a chance in any universe that she would leave him behind. She had no idea how well Cybertronians fared in space, but humans certainly had their drawbacks. She recalled the specialized spacesuit Jack had to wear when he took that crazy trip to Cybertron. No. Humans couldn’t survive in space. But June couldn’t see a reason as to why Ratchet would stay on Earth. Suddenly, June was feeling very conflicted.

The sputtering of the alien spray bottle made June snap open her eyes. Ratchet had moved from her right side to her left, in a slow sweeping motion. But with the last of the primer dripping sadly out of the nozzle, he gave up.

“That’s it,” he sighed, as he thankfully stepped back. He again gave her a sorrowful look-over before shaking his head. “I’m sorry June. This is not going to be a very good paint job.”

She could only give him a wry smile and an awkward shrug as she was still holding her arms up, “That’s OK. I have no idea what I look like, or how I’m supposed to look. So doesn’t really bother me what the end result is like.”

Ratchet only stared at her in surprise and Wheeljack was looking a little dazed. She shifted uncomfortably under their stares, but when she next looked up, there was a bit of relief in both their faces.

“This isn’t a problem. Honest.” She rolled back on her heels then back down in nervousness. What was she really going to do? June found that she wanted to ease her current companions’ worries, and so she found herself rambling in an effort to cover her own unease. “As soon as we can get more primer, we can finish the job, right? And I’m patient, so don’t worry, since there’s plenty of other things to worry about.”

Wheeljack huffed, but it wasn’t disdainful in the slightest. “Ain't that the truth.” June’s rambles seemed to do the trick, as his lips quirked in a sort of sad half-smile. But they quickly turned back into a straight line with his bark of, “Hey! Keep your struts up!”

“Still?”

“Yes. It needs to dry.”

“Well, how long will that take?”

“Should be less than a megacycle.”

“English?” 

“An hour.”

“WHAT!?”

An  _ hour? _ Seriously? There’s no way she could hold her arms up for that long!

“It should be dry enough in a bream to move around. But don’t lean or bump against anything.”

And that’s how June found herself in this current, unbearable predicament. It was a lot like painting her nails at home, as it was a long and arduous process with nothing but waiting. And she could do nothing but stand there, as she didn’t dare try walking in case she stumbled and fell. So she waited. And waited. She was left alone, as Wheeljack mentioned something about taking a recharge, and Ratchet walked off morosely without saying anything. By his closed-off attitude, June figured he needed some well-deserved time to himself.

So there she stood for what felt like forever. It was a new kind of agony for her. There came a point where even she felt that she was fidgeting too much. After fighting with herself, June realized she couldn’t help it. Her body just wanted to move. Was this how most cybertronians were? That didn’t seem quite right, as she had witnessed Ratchet stock still for over an hour when he was deep in research. Arcee, too, had stayed in her garage for months without June even having an inkling that the motorcycle could move on her own. So why did June feel like she could race a mile and do cartwheels without getting tired. She was a bundle of energy, like a rambunctious kindergartener-

“Oh,” June murmured, almost wanting to smack herself in the face. A sparkling. How many times did Ratchet refer to her as that? If they were anything like humans, it would make sense that the newest members of their species had the same boundless energy as children. 

It almost made the mother want to laugh, whether in true humor, self-pity, or just as stress relief, she wasn’t sure. But it was honestly messed up how adult-minded she still was, but her body urged her to do the craziest, albeit temptingly fun, things. June was having a horrible time resisting the urge to explore, and bend, and try and figure out what it was she could  _ really _ do. Ratchet kept reminding her how unhuman she was now, so June silently filed away her absolute desire to see how far that went. But for now, she had to be a boring adult and just stand there. Joy.

“This is gonna be a long…” June thought back on the word Wheeljack had said, then sighed, “megacycle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Wheeljack suffers the same fate as most engineers; the curse of expertise. He knows too much to trust the integrity of anything. XD At least that's my reasoning. It's cool and all, but for the life of me I could not understand why he would bring swords to an energon blaster fight. Like, you're fighting fellow metal beings, Jackie, so those had better be some insanely sharp swords or made of some wicked material, or you're going to spend a week sharpening them for just one hit. So this is my thought process. Swords and grenades may be objectively inferior, but Wheeljack prefers them because they're not STTs, and most enemies don't know how to counter those weapons immediately, giving him the slight edge he needs to pull some crazy stunt. And he's a Wrecker, so he's just crazy.


	13. What is right

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_“Where there is life, there will always be morality. The most difficult aspect about life, and saving life, is understanding that what is right is not necessarily moral, because ‘right’ greatly depends on personal perspective of the moment while morality is the culmination of cultural compromises. And it is difficult, if nigh impossible, to weigh one against the other.”_

\- Quote taken from _1,001 Selected Lectures from Mer-cee_ , pg 523

**Chapter 13: What is right**

“No! I won’t do it!”

Ratchet grit his denta at Wheeljack’s deafening obstinance. He wanted nothing more than to throw the paint can at the wrecker but cool professionalism helped him maintain his demeanour. He did narrow his eyes though, and glare over June’s shoulder.

“Wheeljack, this isn’t up for debate.”

“What you’re planning on doing is basically suicide!”

Ratchet was eternally grateful that June didn’t know Cybertronian, yet, or else she most likely would have had a fit. As it was, she still flinched when his hand twitched at the accusation, and the stray paint drops scattered across her neck.

“Sorry,” he muttered and quickly returned to his careful application of the final layer of paint. 

June didn’t reply. She seemed to be under the impression that she was unable to speak with all her vents and intakes closed, a precaution she naturally did when this process first started. Ratchet hadn't yet explained that Cybertronians certainly weren’t limited to that degree when communicating, like humans were. That was fine with him though. He had his hands full arguing with the wrecker.

“It won’t be that dangerous. I have a plethora of experience that I can easily impart without it affecting my processor at all.”

“And her? What about her?”

“As a new-spark, her memory files are virtually untouched.”

“I don’t believe that! She lived her whole life as a human before this. That has to take up some space.”

“It does. But rest assured, Wheeljack, with the tests I conducted I’ve concluded that there is plenty enough data storage available for this procedure.”

“ONE full test. Just one! And it lasted less than a half-sol. There has _got_ to be information you’re missing!”

Ratchet gave a long-winded sigh. “As I said,” he grunted as he pulled away from June and turned off the paint sprayer. “She’s a new-spark. The majority of her information pathways are blank. She doesn’t even understand Basic Body.”

Wheeljack started at that. A short wave of surprise and disbelief came from him. “Wait, what? How could she not… _know?_ That’s…”

“Impossible?” Ratchet finished lowly. He stepped past June, who was obediently standing still but dared to twist her helm to follow him and this worthless conversation. Handing the used paint sprayer to the other Autobot, he growled, “I’m getting real tired of hearing that word.”

Wheeljack just frowned. He was silent for a moment, then spoke again, “Both the Scientific Advancement _and_ Medical Imperiums would have you helm for this.”

“Good thing they don’t exist anymore.”

Utter astonishment washed over the medic’s EM field before the wrecker checked himself. “I’m surprised,” Wheeljack spoke softly. “Of all the mech’s I knew, you were the last I’d guess to just dismiss the Imperiums’ rules. You of all people know _why_ the Imperiums’ existed. You were even part of them for a while.”

“That was before the war,” Ratchet ground out.

“And after, if I recall correctly.” 

Primus, this mech just wouldn’t let it go! Unwilling to listen any longer, Ratchet started walking away. Infuriatingly, Wheeljack continued on in an almost desperate bid to get him to change his mind.

“One of the few medics that _had_ chosen a side and still decided to uphold the creedences, even though Zeta had made it clear that rebels were to be left for dead. You had argued for a strict upholding of the rules on both sides. And now you’re just abandoning all that?”

“This is _war_ , Wheeljack!”

Ratchet spun around in his fury. His plating had puffed out, and his vents opened wider to let his built-up heat escape. Practically spitting, he shouted, “I did what I thought best then. And I’m doing what I think is best now. Times have changed. _Everything_ has changed now with that new weapon of Megatron’s. The Imperiums can get smelted for as useful as they’ve been during this pit-spawned war. So I am not going to let one more innocent life be manipulated and destroyed by that monster any more than it has been. If I can give her a better chance, _anything_ to let her survive this hell, I’ll do it. I can afford to lose a few memories of a practice I have done, even before you stepped into an engineering lab. It is of no consequence to me.”

Ratchet lost the staring contest. He had forgotten how aggressive Wheeljack’s stone faced scowl was when faced with authority. Abruptly he turned and continued his march, though it felt more like a retreat. He couldn’t even get three steps away before Wheeljack called out.

“And _that’s_ why the Imperiums were created, Doc. Just so you don’t forget.”

He _hadn’t_ forgotten. That was his problem. If he had, Ratchet was sure he wouldn’t be feeling this way. He wouldn’t be struggling and regretting each and every tiny slip down that accursed slope. Oh, it had been a long time coming. He was old, quite old, and his youthful optimism had been eroded away long, long ago. It was only his stringent, hard-nosed sense of morality that had kept him away from such desperate, radical practices, but it seemed that too was steadily deteriorating over the course of this Fallen-cursed war. Ratchet thought he had corrected himself after that disastrous synthetic energon fiasco, but the last two sols had only shown how desperate he truly was. First he took a huge risk in waking a new-spark early to satisfy his own curiosity. And now he was preparing to lose parts of himself, and risk the new-spark’s development, in a bid to mitigate danger to her. Danger that came from the outside. He didn’t, _couldn’t_ , possibly know what issues may arise that would affect her internally. And that was the crux of the former engineer’s current attitude.

But he had no idea what else to do.

So he ignored it all and continued plodding forward. His old struts and bearings didn’t ache anymore, but somehow he still felt weak and decrepit.

“I’m tired,” he announced. “I’m going to recharge, then I’ll get to working on sorting those memory files. And it’s _my_ decision, Wheeljack.”

The wrecker’s face did an odd spasm when he wasn’t allowed to butt in. With a snarl, he replied, “Yeah, but does she know all the risks of a P-2-P Data Transfer? And try as you might, this is not something you can do on your own!”

“Which is why I require your assistance.”

And Ratchet left it at that. He finally walked into the _Jackhammer_ and sat down. It was a long time before he could slip into recharge, but he blamed Wheeljack’s excessive banging and muted cursing for that.

* * *

June was getting real tired of just standing around. She knew it wasn’t the 'bots intentions, but leaving her alone after their argument did not help her anxiety. She didn’t know what they were saying, but she had the strongest feeling it somehow involved her. That wasn’t much of a surprise, though, as she was clearly the odd one out in this little group. Being a complete amature to the world of Cybertronians clearly puts them at a disadvantage, even she could understand that. That thought hurt more than it should have, but she pushed those feelings of vexation, guilt, and anger aside. 

She didn’t ask for this, any of this. Right now she was just merely going with the flow according to her best judgement, because quite honestly, this was a situation no human would be able to handle and still stay sane. She was trying to hold on, she honestly was, but right now it seemed that even the smallest decisions weren’t up to her anymore. She couldn’t even _move_ or else that wrecker, Wheeljack, would snap at her.

June was just tired.

An odd thump and a muttered curse made her twist her head to see what had happened. She could just barely see Wheeljack’s outline from around the corner. Curious, and feeling the need to move, she carefully stepped around the ship. What she saw surprised her; Wheeljack had pinned one arm between his forehead and the ship and was leaning into it. She could just barely see the corners of his mouth move, as if he was talking to himself. Or saying a prayer. The slump of his shoulders and the gentle rocking of his movements was so human-like that June could only stare in wonder. How could she have not understood how human these aliens really were? That pose was unmistakable to her. Wheeljack was exhausted.

“Are-” She started, but then changed her question as he spun around, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

It should have been impossible with a metal face, but somehow she believed she could spot a shine of fluid in his eyes. And even more startling his face seemed to pull and twist as he struggled against his own fatigue. When he just stood there slightly swaying, without saying anything, June frowned.

“You need rest,” she stated bluntly.

Wheeljack scowled in reply, “I need to finish fixing this.”

“No doubt,” she agreed. It wasn’t as difficult as she thought it would be to keep ahold of her compassion as she tried reasoning with the mech. A few minutes ago she felt like screaming, but after witnessing Wheeljack’s personal moment June felt her own problems slightly abate. “And I’m… grateful to you for not blaming me for this mess. But I’m… I’m worried about you. I don’t know much about Cybertronians, but to me you look tired. And I’m guessing that one of the rules about flying is to not sleep at the wheel, so even if you do get the ship fixed we wouldn’t be able to leave right away.”

Unfortunately, Wheeljack’s scowl only deepened. “Ratchet knows how to fly.”

June moved to cross her arms but winced when her fingertips touched wet paint. Settling for putting them on her hips, she said, “OK, but that still doesn’t mean you don’t need sleep, er, re-uhh, recharge.” She silently kicked herself for the stumble, but then immediately plowed on. “What’s the reason you can’t do that?”

“I told ya, the ship needs to be fixed.” With that, Wheeljack pointedly picked up a tool and forced his arm all the way up to his shoulder into the giant hole. He seemed to fumble around for a bit, completely ignoring the woman.

Taking a deep breath to cool herself down, she asked in a polite tone, “And is that the only reason why? Anything else? Because yes, the ship needs to be fixed, but I’m guessing that the more tired you are, the higher chance for mistakes, right?”

Right on cue, something happened. There was a bang as Wheeljack jerked his arm out and June swore she saw a tiny spark of lightning dance between his fingers. The white mech let loose several high whines and curses as he shook his hand. 

June stepped forward in an instinct to help. Startled, the wrecker spun away from her with a growl. She stopped and put her hands back on her hips again.

“You need rest,” she growled right back in what Jack referred to as her ‘scary mom voice’. She had no idea how she compared intimidation-wise to a black ops soldier, but she knew when to crack down on a patient’s stupidity. “So go take a break!” 

It seemed that the mech was finally willing to talk. Still rubbing his hand, he stated, “Somebody needs to stand watch. _Jackhammer_ here should be able to fly, but we’ll need warning time to get off the ground. The thrusters will need several extra astroseconds to heat up before they can be boosted.”

“And we’ll be toast if we don’t get those seconds,” June surmised.

“Either because we burst a line and the energon caught fire, or the ‘cons blasted us,” he said with fake cheeriness.

June wasn’t convinced, though. “Why are you so certain that they’ll find us?”

“The energon spill.” June looked to where Wheeljack pointed. Faintly she could see the slight blue-ish glow emitting from the burnt and dead grass. “The shields can dampen it, but the radiation is still slowly leaking through. The ‘cons have the manpower to investigate every energon trace on this planet, maybe even the solar system. So a ‘con is going to come around eventually. I hope to be long gone before that happens.”

“OK.” June thought for a moment. “So just one person needs to spot them, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Great! I’ll stand watch then, while you go get some rest.”

“It’s not that simple!”

“How so?”

“It’s… they’re flyers! You’ll have to be watching the skies, and right now it’s starting to get dark.”

“They look like airplanes, right? With all the lights and everything? I can totally spot that. Better than you can under that wing fixing that hole.”

“There’s more to it than that! You- you’ve got to be aware of their scanners. Sometimes they can send out pulses to better survey what’s around them. Sometimes you can’t even see them from a distance when they do that.”

“But they’re not likely to, since they came to investigate one tiny little energon signal, right?”

The look Wheeljack gave her was pretty funny. His mouth was open and he blinked at her several times. Finally he slumped his shoulders and sighed, “You know, you’re too quick, right?”

June just snorted, but she couldn’t help glowing at her victory. “So it’s decided then. I’ll stand watch. I’m standing around already, so I want to be at least a little useful.”

“I never said-”

“Go to sleep!”

She smirked a little when she heard the snap of his teeth… or whatever passed as teeth for Cybertronians. Turning around, she walked back to her original spot. “Just for a few hours. You’ll feel much better. And I promise to wake you in case there’s anything suspicious.”

“You better,” he grumped as he stomped after her. “ _Anything_ unusual, you hear? We need that extra time.”

“Understood.” June gave a little salute and a broad smile. 

Wheeljack just pinned her with a long stare before sighing, “Leaving our lives to the rookie.” But then he gave her a half-hearted smile in return. “I’ll owe you a favor,” he said before putting his hand against the side of his ship. Before June could respond, he braced himself then jumped. Scrambling for purchase, he heaved himself to the top of his ship.

June just stared in awe. How he managed to climb slick metal was anyone’s guess. Wheeljack looked down at her and grinned. “What? Never seen a wrecker climb?”

“I wouldn’t put Bulkhead down as one.”

“True, he prefers to stand his ground. On flat ground. But he could surprise even me, sometimes.”

June hummed in reply then leaned back to look at the wispy clouds. Immediately she frowned and snapped her head back to the other ‘bot.

“Hey!” She accused, “You had better go to sleep and not just be up there to watch the skies. I’m doing that job!”

Something like a crackle from an old radio came from on top of the ship. It took June several seconds to realize that Wheeljack was laughing. She couldn’t see him because he was laying down but he raised a lazy hand into the air and replied, “No worries. I’ll go into recharge. I just happen to like staring at the stars.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s true,” Wheeljack’s voice grew steadily quieter. “An’ here’s a tip for ya. Try not to lay down on the ground on organic planets for too long. There’s usually creepy-crawlies that’ll get stuck in your joints.”

June froze at that. Bugs. He was talking about bugs. Crawling _inside_ her. _THAT_ was not an image she wanted, and something she most definitely wanted to avoid experiencing. 

“Thanks for the tip,” she muttered.

“Anytime, Blue-eyes.”

Silence then fell upon the scene. For the first time, June felt that they were really stranded in the wilderness. The oppressive heat of the day only continued to rise even as the sun was quickly setting. June was honestly looking forward to the coolness of the night. The heat helped to dry the paint but it left her feeling too warm and uncomfortable. Cybertronians didn’t sweat and she wasn’t entirely sure how they managed their internal temperatures so well. Something to learn another time, she supposed.

Shifting her weight, June turned south. She figured if there was going to be any danger, it would most logically come from there. Somehow she felt her insides twist in the same way her real body did when she thought about distressing things. That same quessiness settled in her midsection, while near where her heart was supposed to be was the sharp pang, and to complete the triage of disconcerting feelings, a shiver trailed up her spine. Trying to get the varied racing emotions under control, June closed her fists tightly. 

South. That was where her home was. Her few friends, her job, _her son._ ... _Her life_. She had to get back there. How or when were the questions of the day, but she knew she had to. June had to see Jasper with her own eyes. It was going to be difficult and she feared that she would have to leave the safety of the Autobots’ side. They hadn’t said much to her, but June could tell they were worried. Most likely they were going to abandon Earth. That thought gave June another pang of sorrow and fear. They were the only two Autobots left on Earth. If they weren’t here to protect humanity from the evil Decepticons’ wrath, who would? 

June felt a bitter sense of some unnamable feeling settle in her heart. It was true that she hadn’t known the Autobots for long, and a lot of it was more antagonistic than it should have been, but what else should she have done? Her only son and two other children got mixed up in an alien war! Optimus promised that they were only trying to protect the children, and June hoped with all her heart that they had. Because if they- if Jack, or Miko, or Raf had died or- or got turned into _this_ …. June wouldn’t know who to blame.

But what would she do if Ratchet _did_ decide to leave Earth? June wasn’t prepared for that. As sensible as the idea probably was, she just wasn’t onboard. Leaving Earth meant leaving literally everything she knew and her heart couldn’t take that. But how would she survive living on Earth? Cybertronians needed energon to live, right? She had no idea how to track down the liquid substance. And if she wasn’t careful, some humans might attack her out of not-unfounded fear, or worse, she could injure them. 

June silently groaned. She was going nowhere with these thoughts. They were all things she had reviewed a dozen times and she still couldn’t come up with an answer. There was no easy way out, no proof for her to really _know_ that this was real. June brought her arm up to inspect the new gadget now permanently welded onto her. That whole process shook her up pretty well. It was becoming less and less likely that this was all a dream, but she silently pleaded for it to still be one. Waking up in a hospitable bed even five years later still seemed more reasonable than this world straight out of a H.G. Wells novel.

She glanced at her upper arm, the only part of her arms to get painted. The metal plating that curved around was now a bright, almost sparkling white. At the widest point, several inches below where the arm met the shoulder, was an equally bright and bold red cross. Ratchet had asked her if there were any particular designs she wanted. June could think of nothing but the iconic medical logo. If nothing else, June wanted to appear less threatening to humans, and the bright red cross on a white background was universal. Thankfully, there were no complaints to her request.

A medic. That’s what she was now. Well, medic’s apprentice, she remembered with a slight grin. Ratchet was quite particular about that. But still, she was dedicated to helping others and she hoped her colors and symbols proved that. 

Squinting at the device on her arm, June brushed her fingers over the buttons. The bottom one depressed and June almost jumped when the lid on the mediwrist popped up. It was strange. Even though it looked like the rest of her metal skin, the sensation of it opening up was just like she had taken something out of her pants pocket. It was her, but it really wasn’t her. June promptly decided that she could live with the feeling, if only she could ignore the idea that the item was glued to her.

In the fading light of the sun, June could make out images or glyphs on the tiny screen, then sighed when she realized the obvious; it wasn’t in English. She made a mental note to ask Ratchet for some sort of translator or beginner’s book to basic Cybertronian. Not being able to understand anything was becoming more and more frustrating. Still, even though she couldn’t understand the text she randomly pushed the buttons on the side, experimenting with what they could or couldn’t do. 

This kept her entertained for the next several hours. She quickly caught on to certain, repeating glyphs. Eventually she figured out what had to be an error message and how to return to the home screen. At one point she was startled enough to squeak when a ray of light shot out from her wrist. After a few seconds it went away and that annoying error message came back in full blinking, annoying glory. With a sound between a groan and a sigh, June closed the lid. Rubbing the back of her head, she closed her eyes for a minute. She was getting tired. It wasn’t like a headache was forming, she didn’t know how such a thing would be possible without blood or muscle, but she did feel sluggish. Like she could only keep track of one train of thought and only for a limited time. 

But June ground her teeth. She couldn’t fall asleep now, she had promised Wheeljack that she would keep an eye on things. And she had. Every few minutes she would look up to the sky and scan their surroundings, or even take a quick but careful walk around the perimeter. But there was absolutely nothing. Which was a good thing, she supposed, as she slowly dropped her hands and opened her eyes.

She blinked. And blinked again. There, off to the south was some tale-tell lights. She frowned. It wasn’t satellites, they were moving too quickly. But it didn’t seem like a plane. That queasy feeling came back again and June inched towards the _Jackhammer_. 

“Um, Wheeljack?” She called out quietly.

He didn’t answer. 

She looked up but she couldn’t see him from her position. “Wheeljack!” she called louder. She turned back to watch those mysterious lights. It didn’t help her rising panic as they continued on a straight course right for them.

“Wheeljack!” She yelled. This time she struck her fist against the ship’s wall and a satisfactory _bong_ resonated with her words. “Wake up! There’s something coming!”

Finally, the white mech was on his feet and wasted no time looking to where she was pointing. She didn’t understand what cursings he muttered, but in an instant he dropped to the ground. June yelped at his sudden appearance but before she could say a word, he pushed her towards the ramp.

“Get inside!”

There was no need to argue, and June scrambled to do as he said. It was dark, and she hit her shin on one of the many boxes that crowded the space. She had to hold back a few grumpy words of her own.

“What’s going on?” A calm and serious voice asked her though the gloom, and June again almost shrieked when glowing blue eyes stared right at her.

June had to put an arm out against the wall to steady herself and took a moment to breath before answering. “Not sure,” she said, “But I saw something come flying in from the south.”

“It’s another ship. Bigger,” Was Wheeljack’s clipped tone. June snapped her teeth shut at his sudden appearance and tried to brush off this heart-jumping encounter as well. “Fire up the engines,” he ordered, “I’m gonna have to manually monitor some of the thruster capillaries.”

“Roger that,” Ratchet said and he immediately turned around in the pilot's seat.

June was surprised at how calm and efficient the two Autobots worked. It had been less than a minute when she had first called Wheeljack, and already she could feel the ship rumble under her feet.

“You need to stay calm, June.” Ratchet didn’t even look up from the blinking graphs that he was observing.

“Right,” she agreed. Calm, be calm. Tensely, she sat on top of a box and flattened herself against the wall as much as possible. She didn’t want to be in anyone’s way. She closed her eyes and hugged herself. Thankfully her new look had dried enough to not cause problems, but that was last on her list of things to care about right now. With great effort she reined in her spiking anxiety and tried to tune out the shaking and groaning of the ship. She couldn’t screw this up. She couldn’t be a distraction. Not while the other two were working so hard. 

Breath in. Breath out. A part of her recognized the futility of breathing. This metal body didn’t need to circulate air like an organic one did. But still, she breathed. And along with her breath, she focused on that energon exercise; Up, to the side, down to her core, then back up and over, and down to her other wrist. The trembling in her hands didn’t stop but they did slow down. And when the ship groaned and shuddered, she managed to stay quiet, even though she was forced to hop off the sliding box.

A moment later, Wheeljack popped through the entrance and uttered all too calmly, “Fill ‘er up, slow and steady Doc.”

Ratchet merely nodded and moved his fingers across the glowing, holographic display. June saw the graphs rise and lower with rapidly changing glyphs off to the side that she assumed were numbers. Ratchet quickly moved out of the driver’s seat and in a smooth motion Wheeljack took his place. Once four of the graphs were at the same level, Wheeljack took the stick shift in hand and pulled it back. 

Immediately, the ship began to rise and June quickly found herself sitting back on the box with her knees tucked close to her chest. She wasn’t quite sure, as it was unnaturally smooth and steady and unlike the standard take-offs she had experienced as a human, but she was fairly certain that they were flying. She squinted her eyes to look out the window, and yes, the tree tops were shrinking. So why wasn’t she experiencing the g-forces like she normally would?

A shrill beep startled her out of her idle thoughts and right after Wheeljack swore in his native tongue again. On a screen that resembled some sort of bendy grid appeared a bright red dot. Ratchet, who was standing on the other side, frowned.

“We were spotted?” He asked all too calmly.

Wheeljack tsked. “We need to get a move on. So brace yourselves.”

June’s eyes flew wide, and she could only grasp the sides of the container as the missing g-forces instantly multiplied. Wild, screaming thoughts filled her head and she battled with her instinct to panic. No, she didn’t want to be the weak link! She didn’t want to doom everyone because she distracted Wheeljack again! Tighter and tighter she clutched the box.

Don’t distract. Don’t distract.

_Distal phalanges. Middle phalanges. Proximal phalanges._

We’re in the sky. We’re in the sky.

_Are then connected to the metatarsal bones._

Slow down! Slow down!

Wheeljack jerked on the stick and the ship shuddered then jerked to the right as well. If June could have she would have slapped her hands over her mouth and screamed, but as it was her hands were currently crushing the box she was sitting on. She pushed back her near-overwhelming desire to wail, but when her box decided to shoot toward Ratchet, she had a legitimate reason to shout.

“Watch out!”

Ratchet was thankfully already aware and faster than she could blink, he leaned over and grabbed the out-of-control box. June stopped, wide-eyed and senseless, mere centimeters from Ratchet’s face. He stared at her with both a mix of worry and shock.

“Th-” June’s voice hitched. Before she could start anew, Ratchet’s eyes got even wider and he moved impossibly fast again. The hand that had pinned hers to the box left and rose to her face. June immediately froze. In the next second she heard the terrible smash of metal hitting metal and she flinched. 

“You’re OK,” A soft rumble came from right next to her ear and June opened one eye to see nothing but white. Ever-so-carefully, June tilted back to try and move away from Ratchet’s chest. 

“Wait,” Ratchet commanded. With a groan, he shifted again and June heard something sliding against the floor. Scrambling out of his way, June dropped to the side. She was now pinned between the box and the driver’s seat, but that seemed OK for the moment. She wasn’t likely to go crashing into anything or anyone like this.

There was a screech of metal when the ship was again violently jerked around and several more boxes crashed into each other. June yelped and curled into a ball. Again, she tried distracting herself into positive thoughts.

_Don’t distract. Don’t distract. Think of Jack. Jack needs you to not screw this up. Don’t panic._

She wasn’t sure how well she was doing. She was probably failing horribly.

“Could you be a little less crazy, wrecker?” 

June looked up to see Ratchet bending over the box to gently lay that giant hammer on the floor. So that’s what he caught. June was rather grateful for his quick reflexes, as she knew that her head had to be tougher than before but she really didn’t want it tested out.

“I told ya to pack light, sunshine!”

Wheeljack again pulled on the stick and June felt the pressure of gravity against her. Worriedly, she wondered if robots could throw up. But as soon as the pressure and sensation started, it stopped. Some glitchy rumbling came from the wrecker, and Ratchet responded in the same solemn tone. Then something happened that made June freeze. It was quick. If June wasn’t trying to focus away from her fear, she would have missed that tiny flash of despair that came from both Autobots, one right after the other.

June stopped thinking. A cold, accepting conclusion settled over her. She probably wasn’t going to see Jack again.

“They’re catching up to us.” She meant to ask it, because she really didn’t know. But as she was speaking it simply came out flat and truthful.

Ratchet looked down at her sharply. She didn’t meet his eyes. 

“The ship’s too damaged to out run them… right?”

There was a cold silence, then Wheeljack drawled, “That’s right.”

June’s fingers twitched and she drew her knees closer. “So what do we do?”

Again, the silence was suffocating. It bared down on all of them like a heavy, imminent, doom’s-day prophecy. June could practically see the problem and all the predicted outcomes at once in her mind’s eye. Very, very few of them had a positive ending.

“I’m a wrecker.”

June looked up, but she couldn’t see Wheeljack from her position on the floor. 

“I’m a wrecker,” he repeated, but this time there was some tightness to his voice. Like he was desperate.

June swallowed, but the saliva wasn’t there. She breathed, but she couldn’t feel her lungs expand. She blinked and stared at her metal hands. Her mind was empty, and she frowned when she didn’t know what she was supposed to think of right now. So she could only ask the obvious.

“Then why aren’t you fighting?”

There was an immediate spike of agitation from her white companion. A scraping from her other side distracted her, and she saw Ratchet put a hand against the wall. He looked troubled.

June’s frown deepened. Something wasn’t adding up. What was it? Flipping through her memories, June tried piecing the puzzle together. They were being chased down and were losing the race. She wasn’t entirely sure if they got enough time to lift off to avoid detection, but most likely sensors on the other ship had spotted them before she ever could. So the extra time to take off wasn’t the problem here. They were unlikely to have ever flown out of the range of ship sensors even if one of the other two experienced veterans were standing watch. Ratchet was inside, sitting in the pilot's chair. He, at the very least, should have gotten an alert from the _Jackhammer’s_ systems… but no. The ship was totally dark when June scrambled inside. Nothing was on. Nothing was working. Were the dampers even shielding them? No, they had to be on. If they weren’t then they probably would have been swarmed much earlier. And the ship was flying. Not in top condition, but it proved that some basic functions were working. 

Some, but apparently not all. With a frown, June got to her knees. Wheeljack’s erratic maneuvers had slowed. In fact, he seemed to only focus on going as straight as he could as fast as he could. It was strange. Last time they were flying, the wrecker was pulling any number of stunts to get around the flying Decepticons, even firing back with glee. But right now it seemed as if Wheeljack was only interested in getting away and the mysterious ship was just following. No shots were being fired. 

_“I told ya, the ship needs to be fixed.”_

What made the wrecker so insistent on fixing his ship to the point of exhaustion, when it was already capable of flying? Sure, the thrusters weren’t in ideal condition, but Wheeljack and Ratchet seemed to overcome that problem quite easily, at least in her non-existent experience on fixing alien spaceships. And the dampers were working well enough to shield three EM fields. If that was part of the ship’s defensive systems then there was probably minimal work on those systems, if there was any damage at all. 

June wanted to snort at her own stupidity. She couldn’t believe how long it took her to reach this conclusion. Idly, her thoughts returned to a moment in time, of what seemed so long ago. She was watching a movie with Jack, some Arthurian-esque tale about knights and castles and maidens in distress. In the epic battle at the end, Jack asked why the knights were so focused on destroying the catapults by sabotage, instead of storming the castle from the very beginning. She had to tell her little boy that the knights were actually really smart. If the enemies didn’t have something they could use to hurt the knights, then the knights could storm the castle without worry.

The _Jackhammer_ was a castle without catapults. 

Using the back of the pilot’s chair to brace herself, June rose to her feet. She looked out the windows to see nothing but blue skies. They were so high up it should have scared her, but instead she focused her energies on answering her own question. 

“You’re a wrecker,” she spoke softly, gently even. There was no judgement to her voice, no panicked pleadings. Just a calm, cold statement of facts. “And you have no weapons. The ship is too badly damaged to fight back. And it appears we’re losing ground.” 

She had no idea what the text was telling the others, but the distance between the two dots on the screen was closing quickly. “We’re being run down, but they’re not actually firing on us. I have no idea how long this ship can continue, but they’ll eventually force us to land. Right now they want us captured, not killed. But you’re a wrecker. For you it’s better to go down fighting with your ship. But you have two passengers on board, both medics. Well, one highly experienced medic and a wanna-be apprentice,” June quickly amended, with a sad half-smile. It was wiped away with her next words, and the seriousness in her tone matched the seriousness of the conclusion. “There’s no good way out of this situation. What you feel you need to do is contradicted by what logic is telling you to do.”

June’s emotions caught up with her and she failed to bat them away. Fear mixed with sadness, and the ever present doubt bolstered her desires. She gripped the back of the seat and Wheeljack twitched. After a moment’s hesitation, she whispered, “I don’t want to die, Wheeljack. ...This still doesn’t seem like reality to me, but despite that I don’t want to find out what dying is really like. ...Will you listen to me?”

June was worried she had offended Wheeljack. Maybe she shouldn’t have said things so bluntly, or maybe the hardened soldier was disgusted by her childish pleadings. She didn’t know. Wheeljack was an iron wall to her right now. He was glaring straight ahead with both hands gripping the steering wheel. To make it worse, she could feel Ratchet’s stare from behind her. He was so close that if she put her hand back she would no doubt touch him. But his feelings on the matter were silent as well. She had no idea if she was stepping out of line by pleading for his life, too. 

Without warning, Wheeljack’s grip slackened and the wrecker leaned back into his seat. He cocked his head up, and with a debonair grin said, “I hear ya, Blue-eyes. So what’cha thinking?”

A gasp escaped the former human. She couldn’t exactly relax in this situation but great relief cleared her raging emotions. Relaxing her own grip on the pilot’s chair, June gave Wheeljack an honest but brief smile.

“We contact the other ship,” she stated solemnly. “Tell them that there are two medics on board and that we surrender. When we’re clear of the _Jackhammer_ , you should be free to… do whatever wreckers do.”

“Not the worst plan,” Wheeljack agreed. June was grateful for his swift reply. But when she turned to see Ratchet’s confirmation, she was startled.

Ratchet looked downright fierce, with bright, nearly white optics and the biggest scowl she had ever seen on the crotchety medic. He started at her, then solemnly shook his head. “No. I- I can’t. This isn’t just about the three of us. There’s also the Forge. If that is returned to Megatron’s hands, then the Autobots will surely have no hope left.”

“The forge?” June glanced around. Ratchet hadn’t told her anything like that before. Her eyes landed on that giant golden hammer. Ratchet was standing over it protectively, as if June was going to be stupid enough to run away with it.

“The only relic of even having a chance against the Omega Lock at this point. And it’s better to not have it at all, then for one more powerful item to fall into that tyrant’s hands. And I have to make sure that happens.”

June narrowed her eyes at that. “No.” She refused. Ratchet had ducked his head to avoid her gaze. 

“We’ll make sure you’re safely out of the blast radius, Ju-”

“NO!” The female spun around fully with all her hurt and rage. “Don’t you finish that! _Don’t_ \- Don’t be stupid and going off to leave me behind. I can’t- I don’t know what I’m doing Ratchet! I don’t even know _what I am_ anymore, so you just can’t leave me!”

“It’s for the best-”

“ _No it’s not!_ How could you believe that? Are you really that caught up in the idea of winning and losing that you’re just going to give your _life_ up to prevent Megatron from having a-a-a _thing?_ An item?”

“It’s not just that,” Wheeljack butted in tersely. 

“Oh, it’s not?” June asked sarcastically. “Forgive me for thinking otherwise, as I’m a total stranger to Cybertronian customs. But here on Earth we value life.”

“And so do we!” Ratchet raised his voice. He immediately dropped it, but it quivered as he continued to speak. “Optimus valued this planet and its inhabitants. He even called it home. He did everything he could to protect it from the Decepticon threat. But I fear he’s made the ultimate sacrifice in his attempt to protect the Earth. So it’s the least I can do to follow through with this.”

“No,” June’s own voice was unrecognizable to her through the harsh static. “It’s not! You- you need to teach me, Ratchet. I can’t be a medic on my own!”

That seemed to give the Autobot pause. June wanted to plead with him, beg them both to not do what they thought they needed to do, and instead do what was right. She couldn’t let them die. Not like this! Not because the ship was damaged and they couldn’t outrun or fight back. Not because she-

A shrill beep made her jump and June whipped her head around. Wheeljack had touched a symbol and static filled the ship’s speakers. 

“What are you doing?” She demanded. Sharp, stinging betrayal shot through her and she thought she might just collapse from the agonizing hurt and impending future.

“We both thought of and agreed to this idea, June.” Ratchet answered. His voice had returned to its unusually soft and caring tone. June refused to turn around. She didn’t want to see that wretched, dejected face of his.

“Well I didn’t agree,” She snapped back.

There was no answer to that. Ratchet just continued his apology. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you the information you need to become a medic. If the Decepticons believe you are truly capable of being one, they might just train you. But you’ll have to be-” Ratchet hesitated. June could almost hate him for saying those words. But with his next, she forgave him. “You’re a strong femme, June. You’ll survive. And I know you’ll find Jack.”

June couldn’t stand it anymore. She flung herself around, ramming herself into Ratchet’s chest and hitting her shin on a box. But she didn’t care for her bruised leg or Ratchet’s flare of surprise. Knocking her forehead into his shoulder, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Please,” she whispered. But she knew it was futile. She couldn’t change his mind. It would take a miracle to get out of this situation.

A scrambling of sounds emitted across the tiny space, and June wasn’t sure what to make of it. Whatever parts that were Cybertronain got lost in the static, so she had absolutely no way to piece together a single word. But the other two could hear it just fine, and she felt Ratchet stiffen under her. He rumbled something lowly and Wheeljack barked in laughter.

The wrecker drawled in English, probably for June’s own benefit. “I thought you were tired of hearing that word, Doc.”

An arm snaked around June’s shoulder and gave her a tight squeeze, before Ratchet gently began pulling her off. June refused. She knew she was being stubborn and stupid but she honestly couldn’t care. This idiot was going to go off and get-

“June, it’s OK.”

“No, it’s not!”

She didn’t want to believe the sudden change in Ratchet’s mood. He had claimed earlier that EM fields couldn’t really lie, but she had a hard time believing that right now. How could he be so happy and relaxed when their impending doom was drawing closer?

“It’s Ultra Magnus,” he stated as if that cleared everything up.

“Huh?” June snapped her head up. That was enough for Ratchet to successfully push her off and give them some space, much to her disappointment. 

“He was Optimus Prime’s second-in-command during the war on Cybertron.”

“Huh?”

“He’s an Autobot ally.”

“...Huh?”


	14. Mea culpa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Meant to say this last time, but I realized I totally described the Jackhammer incorrectly many chapters ago. I was thinking of Ultra Magnus’ ship with the lift, but whatever. Minor detail.   
> And thank you so much for your lovely comments and reviews! They make me laugh and cry (in a good way) and make me feel like I’m hitting the target as a writer. So thank you for your support!

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ “Solus, my intumus conjex endura, I promise that I will spend ten thousand years in strict apology to you, my love, so please wait until I am finished returning all to as they were."  _

_ Legends of the Primes _ Act 24, Scene 4, Line 338

**Chapter 14: Mea culpa**

June wanted the last thirty minutes of her life back. Scratch that; she wanted the last several  _ days  _ of her life back. Double scratch that; she just wanted to be human and safely at home with Jack. Regardless, the universe was really screwing her over and she was pretty ticked off about it.

She hovered next to the  _ Jackhammer _ , warily eyeing the new giant robot that had landed alongside them. He was massive, about the same size as Optimus Prime. And what the heck was with his shoulders? Miko would have a riot drawing him in her sketchbook. Several times she saw the newcomer glance her way and she would stiffen under the stare. If Ratchet was considered prickly and Wheeljack aloof, then this Ultra Magnus would be correctly described as stiff. Straight and rigid, his stern face seemed to put both Ratchet and Wheeljack on edge. Wheeljack moreso, as he shifted from foot to foot and scowled across the expanse as if in challenge. She was slightly grateful that Ratchet took it upon himself to greet the blue mech.

“What’s your problem?” She mumbled quietly without taking her eyes off the distant exchange.

“Nothin’,” was Wheeljack’s quick lie.

June couldn’t stop snorting in disbelief. “Yeah right. You’re practically vibrating over there. And you were telling  _ me  _ to keep my EM field in check.”

Wheeljack twitched at the accusation. His frown deepened but the interference June was experiencing dropped significantly. She thought about pushing him for details but ultimately decided that it was none of her business. Whatever history these three mech had with each other had absolutely nothing to do with her. June’s momentary distraction with the wrecker ended when out of the corner of her eye she saw Ultra Magnus reel back. Wheeljack looked on with interest and a smirk crossed his face. 

“My bet is Doc just told the big guy what you are.”

“And what’s that?” June snapped at him while simultaneously staring down Ultra Magnus. The blue mech didn’t seem to know what to do as he kept turning his head to the medic then back to June. “A freak?”

It was Wheeljack’s turn to snort. “The prettiest freak I ever saw,” he murmured as he slowly straightened his stance. Ratchet had turned around and started walking over to them with Ultra Magnus following slowly, almost cautiously, behind. 

There was an awkward moment’s pause when the two stopped before June and Wheeljack. Again, there was a ripple of agitation from the wrecker that June suspected she only noticed because she stood right next to him. Regardless, she didn’t let that distract her and focused her attention on Ratchet. Silently, she was waiting for him to make the introductions as June certainly wasn’t about to do anything. Not with how furious she still was.

There was a brief crackle of static before Ratchet coughed and said, “June, uh, I would like you to meet Ultra Magnus. He’s Optimus Prime’s second-in-command.”

Reining in her emotions, June politely nodded her head and looked up to the large mech. She moved a half-step forward before stopping. She wasn’t sure how to speak with the new Cybertronian as she only knew English. And would a handshake even be appropriate? His giant, flat fingers would totally engulf her own. So she paused, considered her next move, then gave Ultra Magnus a small smile. It couldn’t be called warm, but she was trying her best to appear non-threatening.

Ultra Magnus looked just as awkward as she did, if only for the briefest of seconds. He readily accepted her nod with one of his own but when he realized she wasn’t about to speak he seemed to gratefully turn to her white companion. June was also happy for Wheeljack’s blessed distraction as that allowed her to take a subtle step back from the crowd. She desperately needed a moment to collect herself before she could look at Ratchet. The Autobot medic had moved to the side after the introductions and didn’t seem interested in the berating Wheeljack was being put through. He was, instead, staring intently at June like she was some specimen under the microscope. She didn’t like that. For a second, she thought to abruptly turn heel and walk away but unfortunately Wheeljack barely beat her to it. 

June wasn’t paying particular attention to the two Autobots, but it looked as if Ultra Magnus had given the wrecker some command. And Wheeljack was having none of it. June didn’t know much about the ‘bot, but it was obvious from both Fowler’s and Miko’s accounts of the mech that he was just like a punk teenager. And it seemed that Ultra Magnus was his direct opposite. The two were utterly incompatible, which is why it came as no surprise that Wheeljack snarled a few short words back and stomped around the side of his ship leaving Ultra Magnus standing there dumbfounded for a minute before snapping himself to attention.

“Well, that went better than expected,” Ratchet rumbled.

She almost made the mistake of asking him how badly it could have gone, but closed her mouth shut just in time. Offended by her own ease around the medic, June crossed her arms and turned her head away. She was uncomfortable being this close to Ratchet but beyond ignoring him, she wasn’t sure what else to do. Wheeljack had already taken the dramatic exit from her. And they were in an unfamiliar area. It was dark out, too. She could see OK with these new eyes in the low light but that didn’t mean she was stupid enough to go walking around on her still trembling legs.

“Ju-” Ratchet started just as Ultra Magnus rumbled something. With the medic distracted by the commander, June spotted her get-away. 

With shoulders straight, she walked off. Not the wisest idea, but oh well. June was fed up with the whole situation and just needed space, trembling legs or no. She had to resist with everything she had to not look behind. Did his face crumble or shoulders slump? How similar did this mechanical being react compared to when she was human and a brief moment in time a little more than a decade ago?

She didn’t know.

She didn’t know, and right now she was too stubborn to find out. She was acting a lot like...  _ he  _ did back then.

June didn’t know when she ended up in front of the giant metal wound on the  _ Jackhammer’s _ side or how long she had been staring at it unthinkingly, but when awareness dawned on her she felt…  _ upset _ . A sick, sludge-like feeling creeped from that space in her chest and rose to her head and sank to her feet, making her feel woozy and uncoordinated. The feeling wouldn’t go away, no matter how much she tried cutting it off. It was like it was flowing in her veins. And the usual  _ human _ method of breathing in and out did nothing to help her. In fact, it only seemed to make the energon heat up and flow faster the more she sucked in air. June knew she was close to having a panic attack, if only because all the mental signs were there.

He was going to leave her! _ And he was fine with that! _

That hurt her. June had forgotten how badly it felt to be left behind. To be told to start all over again. On her own. For one small moment she had believed there was someone she could rely on through this whole crazy, unfathomable ordeal. But he was ready to just throw her out the door for reasons she just couldn’t comprehend when things started looking bad. 

How was she supposed to approach him now?

As if hypnotized by the open hole, she brought a hand up to touch it. The previous jagged and melted edges had been cut away to make preparations for welding the new material easier and safer. But it looked as if a lot more work needed to be done before that happened. Bundles of broken wires were twisted and shoved to the side while others looked haphazardly spliced together. Clear lines of energon had been tightly clamped to prevent more leaking of the radioactive substance, but several of them looked to have come loose during their panicked flight. And whatever critical parts and pieces of this ship she couldn’t name were still half-melted or scorched. Those were probably parts that were impossible to replace on this backwater planet she called home. 

She was adult enough to recognize that the whole situation wasn’t entirely her fault, but that didn’t lessen the looming shadow of guilt casted over her. It was  _ her  _ panic,  _ her  _ screams of terror that distracted Wheeljack from flying the ship properly. They would have been fine. Wheeljack proved his capabilities by shooting down the Decepticons even with a hole in his ship, so he certainly could have done it without her interference. They would have landed in a safe area to pick up Ratchet and then… and then… and then immediately left Earth.

What was she supposed to do? Could she really leave Earth? If this latest incident proved anything to her, it was that Ratchet and Wheeljack were willing to do anything to escape the clutches of the Decepticons. If this craft was capable of spaceflight she had no doubt they would have left the solar system by now, whether or not she really wanted to leave her home. But since they were stuck here they had decided to go another route. And they were just about to follow through if Ultra Magnus hadn’t revealed himself.

They were about to leave June behind.

June was going to be left alone. Again.

June was angry. 

There were no other words to describe it. That sickly, sludge-like feeling that weighed her down and squirmed along her tendermost parts was disgusting and she hated it. But she also just couldn’t let it go. And she hated herself for that.

* * *

“Are you aware of what’s happened, Ratchet?”

The medical office scoffed. “There’s a severe lack of information at the moment, considering that the Omega One base is gone. But yes, I am  _ very _ aware of Megatron’s newest weapon.”

“Weapon?” Ultra Magnus sounded genuinely surprised. “I think few, if any, cybertronians would call the…” he had to pause and recall the name Ratchet had used to describe the relic. “Omega Lock a weapon.”

Ratchet frowned at that. That was certainly a good point. He was living proof that the Omega Lock was the furthest thing from deadly to a cybertronian. All his worn out functions were fully restored. It was truly a miracle of the ancients.

“But I wanted to confirm that Optimus Prime and his team were on Cybertron. Tell me again the events in order, with time signatures.”

“Uh, yes, of course.” Ratchet stuttered. His optics had wandered to June’s retreating figure. He felt his spark sputter for a second when he saw her round the corner without even the slightest hesitation in her steps. For some reason that made his concentration falter.

Pushing the blue-opticed femme out of his processor for the moment, he gave the commander an account of the events from when Starscream stole their Omega Keys. It took several breams but Ultra Magnus seemed satisfied with the details. When finished, the stern frown only stretched. 

Warily, Ratchet asked, “So what do you know?”

There was a subtle fluctuation in the fields and Ultra Magnus hesitated. He raked Ratchet with a look then abruptly turned around. “You were one of Optimus’ closest confidants.”

“Yes,” Ratchet answered immediately, though it really wasn’t a question. His anxiety spiked with the SIC’s evasive probing.

“Then you should follow me to the ship. There’s something you need to see.”

For a brief moment, Ratchet thought that this was an elaborate trap meant to separate him from the group. But he just as quickly dismissed it. If this wasn’t Ultra Magnus then there were plenty of opportunities to destroy them. There was no need to go through all the trouble of speaking with them. And besides, no one could verbally raze a wrecker quite like the commander.

So when he was informed he should sit down in one of the chairs, Ratchet did so with a growing sense of fear. He wasn’t fearful for himself, as he trusted that this was Ultra Magnus, but he feared what the mech was preparing to show him.

“I had left the Ark to finish it’s repairs sometime ago because I had received Optimus Prime’s encrypted directive. The majority of the crew was still on board, but others had left for fuel runs. Prowl was given orders to finish the last repairs as quickly as possible, then gather as many Autobots together and head for these galactic coordinates. I made the decision to fly ahead as backup for Optimus, as well as to inform him of the Ark’s progress.

“When I entered the solar system, there was a massive energy surge. Soon after that I received two messages that were broadcasted over all public channels. These are the messages.”

Without any fanfare, Ultra Magnus brought them up. Ratchet knew he wasn’t going to like them, just from Ultra Magnus’ somber tone, but he didn’t know how much he could  _ hate _ a message. It was Soundwave’s production, no doubt. Megatron was front and center of the carnage, boasting about his latest victory. The bastard looked gleeful as he was bathed in the blazing blue-green light of the Omega Lock. Ratchet couldn’t care a scraplet’s front tooth about the deranged tyrant, but still he was drawn into the speaker’s tirade. And it made him sick. When the video panned to show the defeated Autobots, Ratchet rose out of his chair in fury. 

Bumblebee!  _ What did  _ he  _ do  _ to the scout!? Hadn’t he already mutilated the young mech enough? His medical instincts kicked in and he was racing through the options of cauterizing sensitive wounds like that. Then the video panned to show Arcee. Oh, Primus, help her! That was not something survivable without immediate medical attention. For once, he was happy to see Knock-Out leaning over his comrade. The Decepticon medic was a formidable warrior and wouldn’t hesitate to snuff a spark in battle, but he was still a medic. Ratchet stared, riveted to the claws that traced the femme’s gaping wound. Surely he knew that this was fixable. She just needed treatment. Surely- no, this wasn’t a time for a mercy kill. He couldn’t-

The video zoomed away, and Ratchet smashed his fist against the wall. For a moment he was grateful that Wheeljack had left, because if he saw this, then… Ratchet wasn’t really sure what the unstable mech would do, but when it came to hunting Decepticons he was more determined than the Earth equivalent of a starved wolf. And Megatron would no doubt be at the top of that hunting list for this latest atrocity.

With mixed emotions, and none of them positive, Ratchet watched the video end with the echo of Megatron’s rasping vow. Weary, the Autobot sank back into the chair. Propping his elbows against his knees he dropped his face into his servos. He didn’t know how long he was like that but it was much too soon when Ultra Magnus spoke up.

“So I need you to confirm again, Ratchet. Was Optimus Prime on Cybertron? Was he there for this battle?”

Ratchet dug his digits into his helm. He wanted to scream, but he settled for cold, exacting, weary words, “Yes. Optimus left with the team to retrieve the Omega Keys on Cybertron. He had Bul-Bulkhead, Arcee, Bumblebee, and Smokescreen with him, along with all the relics we collected, except the Forge. They had a foolproof plan. They- There should have been no way for them to- to  _ lose _ .”

“Then where is Optimus?”

By Amalgamous, this ‘bot just wouldn’t let him think!

“I don’t know!” he roared. He moved to stand, but all his strength had left him and he collapsed back into the seat. “I don’t know,” he choked out. “There was too much interference from the Omega Lock that I couldn’t open a space bridge to Cybertron. So there’s no way he’s on Earth. But he just wouldn’t have abandoned his allies.”

“There is no footage of the Prime,” Ultra Magnus stated, unperturbed by Ratchet’s outburst. He rewound the video to where it showed an aerial view of the carnage. Ratchet couldn’t take his eyes off the bulky, helm-less husk of the green wrecker. “So I have reason to doubt Megatron’s claim of having killed him.”

Ratchet twitched. He cleared his optics several times to better examine the scene. Ultra Magnus was right. Megatron, with his ego, would never pass up the opportunity to show-off the husk of his greatest rival. But Optimus’s sizeable frame was nowhere to be found. And when he counted off the team, he realized he was a member short.

“Smokescreen is missing.” 

“I am unfamiliar with the mech,” the commander said. The slightest hint of curiosity leaked into his stern speech. “Is he a master scout? His husk is nowhere in the image, so could he be hiding nearby?”

Ratchet couldn’t stop his bitter bark of laughter. “Primus, no! He’s a total rookie! Spent his time comfortably guarding Alpha Trion during the War on Cybertron, before being forced into induced stasis until he crash-landed here on Earth. He’s missed  _ everything _ . Smokescreen is about as pure and innocent as any mechling can be from our planet.”

Honest surprise flittered over the EM field, before Magnus huffed. “Today is full of surprises. I hear of not one, but two innocent cybertronians in the space of a joor.”

Ratchet had to blink at that. Then he frowned and said, “June… June isn’t cybertronian.”

“I’m not entirely sure I understand,” Ultra Magnus also frowned. “You said so yourself, that she has a body exactly like a cybertronian’s. Therefore she is cybertronian.”

A sigh was the only thing Ratchet could produce. “She’s from  _ Earth _ . She was originally  _ human _ . I feel like that is enough distinction to say she is not cybertronian. Regardless, we got off topic. Smokescreen may be a total rookie, but the fact that his husk isn’t laying with the others means he either offlined elsewhere or he somehow managed to escape. And I hope it’s the latter, as it’s the only explanation for Optimus’s lack of appearance.”

A disbelieving brow rose on the commander’s face. “Would Smokescreen have the strength to pull Optimus away from an army of Decepticons?”

“No,” was the immediate reply. Ratchet could feel his hope sinking. “He’s the same make as Bumblebee with far less experience.” 

His optics wandered to the still frame of the video. Staring at his wounded, dying, and dead comrades made that all-too-familiar cold and sparkless shell fall back onto him. Ratchet grit his denta. A small, flickering part of him rebelled against the idea of returning to that icy, cut-off disposition but logic won out. This war couldn’t be won on hope alone.

Scanning the image Ratchet looked for any clue, any sign of the two missing mechs. The pieces just weren’t adding up here. Frustrated, he tapped the controls and watched everything in slow motion. He still failed to determine Knock-Out’s intentions several playthroughs later and he had learned everything he needed to about Megatron’s cruelty. He was growing weary and was about to start the next video when a subtle detail caught his eye.

There was a drone in the background walking toward Starscream with something in it’s servos. Ratchet narrowed his optics and leaned forward. With a few taps of the keys, the image was zoomed in as far as it would go and he got a clear idea of what it was the drone held. 

“The Apex Armor.”

“What?” Ultra Magnus sounded shocked, as he should be.

“One of the relics we found on Earth. Arcee took the Apex Armor for the battle on Cybertron. But why would she take it off if they were in a battle?”

“Perhaps they had no choice? Megatron has been known to force Optimus’ servos before.”

Ratchet growled at that, but it wasn’t directed at the commander. They both knew, as well as the tyrant and practically all of Cybertron, Optimus’s weak points.

“The only reasonable explanation as the Apex Armor has certainly lived up to its legend. But I’ve thought of a potential scenario of why Smokescreen and Optimus are not present.”

“And that is?”

“Smokescreen was quite fond of the Phase-Shifter. That relic also lived up to its name. The runt used it rather successfully, for the most part. If he had it on him, there is a good chance he would have phased both himself and Optimus out of the battle. He’s young and stupid enough to do something like that, even against a commander’s orders.”

Ultra Magnus twitched at that. Ratchet could almost feel the commander’s impression of the young mech drop by more than two-hundred points. He would have felt sorry for Smokescreen’s short-lived acclaim, if he didn’t know personally how annoying the carefree racer could be. 

“So they could be in hiding on Cybertron.”

“Yes,” Ratchet allowed the smallest, faintest sliver of hope to bloom in his chassis. He continued to frown though. “What’s wrong?”

Ultra Magnus had pressed his lips against each other so tightly that they looked like a professional weld. “I want to believe you,” He started slowly, “But Megatron seems far too confident for Prime to have just slipped away from him. You should see the next video.”

Ratchet did. And again. And for a third time. He would never admit to Megatron’s grandiloquence, he was never pulled in by the gladiator’s humble orations to begin with, but this latest speech would certainly be effective. It was evocative, powerful, and enticing; Everything that would make the tyrant's scattered, disillusioned followers come falling back to his pedes. It was everything Ratchet feared. 

There was a certain sonorous resonance to his lively speech that wasn’t there before. And the insufferable cockiness had wholly consumed the mech’s ego. If that wasn’t enough, there was a particularly mad light in his optics that seemed to challenge anyone who dared to disbelieve his lies. That confidence Ratchet had only seen twice before, when, twice before, Megatron had declared himself the victor in their eternal struggle. 

Megatron was fully convinced that he had offlined Optimus Prime.

And Ratchet was chilled to his core because he had no proof to say otherwise.

“How long ago did you receive this one?” 

“Little more than twelve joors ago.”

Ratchet sucked in some air, allowing his energon to flow faster. With every klick their situation turned more dangerous. Abruptly he stood from the chair.

“Where are you going?” the commander demanded. Anyone else lower in the chain of command might have wilted at the gruff tone, but Ratchet knew the mech was merely asking to be politely informed of his actions.

“To go speak with June. I-” Ratchet halted. A flurry of emotions ran through him, but he was trained enough to not let them escape. “In case you didn’t notice, she bears the marks of a medic.”

“I did.”

“But she has no knowledge of even basic cybertronian functions, so I promised to teach her. But I’m going to speed up her training by imparting some of my memories through a P-2-P Data Transfer.”

Ratchet was on a roll. He would have a story to tell about how he made Ultra Magnus react surprised five times in a sol. That is, if he ever got to see any other comrades again. Luckily, the former leader of the wreckers wasn’t as obstinate as Wheeljack, but Ratchet suspected it was due to the mech’s entire background being firmly entrenched as an enlisted. Magnus could only base his knowledge on rumours and the intelligence from a few trusted others. 

“A P-2-P Transfer? Are you certain? Isn’t there considerable risk to the procedure?”

“The procedure itself is fairly simple and straightforward,” Ratchet quickly assured. “I’ve done the needed testing and I’ve determined that June would be a wonderful candidate for a transfer. She’s wholly determined to become a medic and Primus knows we need more competent medics.”

Ultra Magnus readily nodded his helm in agreement. He was a commander. He knew what the numbers were like. Adding just one more reliable medic would be a huge boon to their cause.

“But she’s not a fighter,” Ratchet warned. There was a steely note to his tone, and he drove the point home by staring down the SIC. “She has  _ absolutely nothing _ to do with our war. She should be given the freedom to do as she pleases.”

“Understood, Ratchet,” Ultra Magnus agreed. The medic could feel a bit of the sudden tension leave his struts. But the commander wasn’t done. “But she should be aware that if she defects to the Decepticons she will be treated wholly as one, as according to the Tyrest Accord.”

Ratchet let out a sharp bark of laughter. “No. I don’t think there’s any chance of her joining the Decepticons. It was Megatron who turned her into what she is now. And I can assure you, she did not agree to it. And besides, her son was Arcee’s human partner. He- he accomplished plenty for the Autobot cause, despite being an organic. No, June may not fully fall in-line with the Autobots, but the All-Spark would have to grow cold before she would join the Decepticons.”

The Autobots’ Second-in-Command seemed satisfied with Ratchet’s answer. “Very well, then. I give you permission to proceed with the transfer. Just make sure you come out of it just as capable as you are now. You are undoubtedly any faction's best medic, Ratchet. No new trainee would be worth the cost of replacing you.”

In his younger days Ratchet would have been high over Cybertron’s three moons with that kind of praise. Now, he could only tiredly nod his head at the heavy expectations. Half-heartedly he gestured with his servo as he allowed the lift to take him down. “Of course,” he agreed just as tiredly. 

But when he got to the bottom he gazed intently ahead. June may not want his help anymore, considering how she was acting earlier. Her woeful hope during that harried flight only drove home the long-lost consequences of the drawn-out war. And after watching those two horrid propaganda files, Ratchet was more determined than ever to impart his eons of wisdom to June. 

Not waiting for hesitation to slow him down, Ratchet quickly crossed the distance between the two ships. He had to walk around to the backside where he found a grisly sight; June’s servos, upper struts, and chassis were covered in bright splotches of energon.

“June! What happened?” Ratchet screeched as he rushed to her side.

In slow motion, June turned to face him with wide optics. She took a stumbling step out of his reach, before she started babbling.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- I mean, I was just trying to help. And then I got all this stuff on me.”

“So you’re not hurt?” Ratchet forced himself to stay where he was because clearly June didn’t want him in her personal space. 

“Um, no? I mean, I sort of jammed my finger but I’m honestly OK.”

Critically, he reviewed her condition. There were no visible gashes or mangled parts, so he allowed his lightning-speed sparkbeat slow, “That’s… good.”

An awkward pause filled the night air. Ratchet stared at June, but the femme was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. He only caught her optics when he first surprised her, but since then she would only stare at her servos or the ground.

“What… were you trying to fix that got you covered in energon?”

“Um, the hole. I noticed that some of the clamps came loose and I thought that wasn’t good, so I thought I would try to… well, you know, fix it.”

Ratchet inspected the hole. It seemed that Wheeljack had gotten more work done before their crazed flight, which was good, but June was correct; several clamps were coming loose. He swiped a servo over a bundle of wires to clear away some spilt energon. 

“I was trying to lift a tube to see it better, when it suddenly expanded and burst. I have no idea why it did that, but it did.” June spoke in broken static. She seemed to be very hesitant in speaking with him. “I’m sorry for making a mess.”

Ratchet again looked at her, but she dropped her head in time to avoid his gaze. Slightly irritated, he huffed, “It’s not your fault. If the energon line had swelled to that point, it was bound to burst. Better now than later, when we’re in the air.”

“O-oh. OK.”

As he wiped away what he could, Ratchet noticed something odd. Several of the key broken wires had been twisted together and inserted into the backup communications box. It was done so haphazardly that Ratchet had a hard time believing Wheeljack was the one responsible, so he turned to June.

“Did you do this?”

June squinted at where he pointed, then ducked her head again. “Y-yeah… it just looked important and figured it needed power, so I… plugged the wires in. Was I not supposed to do that?”

Ratchet was flabbergasted. How did June know that? And how did she manage to pull the right wires together? There had to be more than a hundred packed into this space, not counting the double loose-ends of which there were many. Of her randomly putting together the right combination into the right box was mathematically improbable. He could only blink at her in shock.

“Sorry. I guess I really shouldn’t be messing around with this. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll take them out.”

June approached, but Ratchet grasped her servo before she could undo her work. “No, it’s fine. You did a good job, June.”

“I did?”

_ Finally _ he saw her optics! Solus, they were beautiful. He was sure he would have to spend eons searching for that exact shade of blue, and even then it would be hard to find them set in such a perfect-

His vocalizer hitched when she wrenched her servo out of his and took a hurried step back. Either the ground was again too soft or her struts were unbalanced because June was suddenly dropping straight for the earth. Instinctually, Ratchet reached out to catch her. When his servo brushed against hers, June slapped it away and the Autobot knew he had messed up in a big way.

Her optics, which not even an astrosecond before had been filled with panic, surged into a stubborn flash of anger. She let loose a static-filled yelp of “No!” before crashing. Hard. There was a brief hiss of ventilation before she twitched.

“June!” Ratchet knelt to check her condition, but the dogged femme only scootched away when he got close.

“I’m fine!” She snapped back.

Ratchet scowled. “Well thank you for that information,” he vented, “But I think as the medic I’ll make that call.”

He found his scowl was perfectly matched in June. She abruptly stood up and snarled, “ _ I’m fine _ . Or am I the only person you seem to care about around here? Because you certainly don’t seem to care about yourself.”

The snap of his denta was so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if the Decepticon spymaster picked it up from deep space. Rising to his full height, he faced off against his newest protégé. 

“I care about everyone’s health and safety, June! And it’s not because I was forged to do that, but because I  _ chose  _ to do so. But over the eons I’ve had to prioritize certain lives over others.”

“I understand that. I'm a nurse, remember? I know what it’s like to make those hard decisions. What I don’t understand is you _willfully throwing your life away_ _out of spite!_ ”

Ratchet’s frown grew. “It wasn’t out of spite, June. Trust me, that wasn’t a decision I came to easily. But I decided on that because I  _ know _ what Megatron will do to a ‘bot like me. I may be a medic, but that only provides me the slimmest protection from-”

He cut himself off when June’s optics got wide. She looked genuinely upset, but at what he had not a clue. Her EM field, though better controlled, fluctuated faster than the lights on Velocitron. Confusion, surprise, and anger was there, but so too was hurt, pain, fear, and a callousness Ratchet never would have pegged the former human as having. 

“I know you’ve lived longer than me, Ratchet,” June began slowly after she cycled some air. “And that you’ve been through some truly terrible experiences, but-” Again she ducked her head and scowled. “But I got  _ scared _ , Ratchet. Really and truly scared. I have no one,  _ nothing _ , to help me through this. And I'm sorry, I’m really, really sorry to ask this, as I know it’s terribly selfish but; would you please stay with me? Teach me? I need- I need somebody to be there for me because I don’t have Jack.”

Now Ratchet’s optics widened. He had thought of what would happen to June after his death, but ultimately decided that it was better for her to be taken in, as despicable as it was, by a Cybertronian Decepticon than to die with him. But June apparently couldn’t think that way. She had grown far too attached to him. 

And, he realized when an uncomfortable feeling settled over him, he had as well. June… June was… a-a distraction. He needed to go to Optimus immediately! The light of the Autobot cause could be slipping back into the All-spark as they talked, and Ratchet was making no progress in preventing that.

The silence grew louder as the medic decided how to answer the femme’s confession. As each klick passed she grew more distraught and the fear and hurt from her field grew in intensity. Finally, he spoke.

“June, you know I can’t promise you that. I’m a field medic. Though I may not always directly be in the line of fire, it is no place for a trainee.”

Her scowl was back and she snapped, “So, what, did you actually intend for me to be a medic? Or is this just a cover? A disguise to keep me safe?” She gestured to her painted arm where the brilliant red cross contrasted against the brighter white.

“No! You certainly have all the capabilities to become a fine medic, June. But you must understand that the work I am usually called to do is in the midst of battle. You have not experienced that, and by Primus, I hope to keep you from that.”

June’s face fell. It seemed that the fight had left her. Finally, Ratchet could get to the crux of the conversation he had been waiting for.

“And, I hate to tell you this, but our parting may be earlier than you would like.” June snapped her helm up to look at him but she thankfully didn’t put up a fuss. She stayed solemnly quiet through his explanation.

“Ultra Magnus has some information that leads us to believe that Optimus may be wounded and stranded on Cybertron. I need to reach him as soon as possible. Once the Data Transfer is complete we’ll leave Earth. Wheeljack should have his ship space-worthy by then, so… so he’ll take you to the Ark where the Autobot forces are. You’ll be safe there and you’ll undoubtedly learn a lot from Perceptor. He’s more of a scientist than a medic, but he’ll be sure to give you a good foundation by the time I return with Optimus. I- I  _ can  _ promise you that.”

Ratchet knew he was rambling at the end, but he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t known as a rambler. Direct, concise information made his work so much easier, but for some unholy reason the femme that stood before him made him lose all sense of language. So when her EM field cut off abruptly in the middle of his explanation the only thing he could think to do was to keep talking. Maybe that would help her communicate. Maybe.

“OK, then,” she whispered. Her struts trembled so she brought them across her chest. “OK, I’ll hold you to that. So what do we do?”

Ratchet felt the relief flood through him but he didn’t pause to relish in it. “I’ll get Wheeljack. We’ll need his help with this. But head over to Ultra Magnus’ ship. We’ll do the Data Transfer inside where it’ll be quieter and less distracting.”

“Right,” she breathed. She gave him a long look before gliding past him, and ever so quietly she said, “I’m sorry.”

* * *

Wheeljack heard the medic stumble up the ramp but gave no indication that he did. Fact was, he heard the entire conversation and he didn't know how to feel about it. 

"Wheeljack."

The wrecker didn't bother vocalizing his reply, but did rev his engine a little higher and opened his EM field just enough to let the other know he was acknowledged. 

"We need your assistance to begin the transfer. You need to come to Ultra Magnus' ship."

"You haven't told her the risks."

There was no satisfaction when he felt the medic’s ire. Instead, Wheeljack felt discouraged and worn.

"She  _ needs  _ this knowledge, Wheeljack."

The mech curled his lipplates into a snarl and glared over his shoulder. No longer was he pretending to study the diagnostics on the screen. His vocalizer sputtered with the snappy retort he wanted to say but he just couldn't force it out. Abruptly he turned back around and huffed.

There was a tense silence and Wheeljack counted the astroseconds to when Ratchet finally broke.

"Wheeljack."

Wheeljack  _ hated _ that tone. It was the same stupid tone that hung with the expectation that he was on the edge of doing something stupid. Which was stupid, because on the rare occasion he  _ did  _ do something wrong it was usually in a split second. Unlike what most thought of him, he didn't waste his time dreaming up meddlesome ways to destroy somebot's career.

" _ I know, _ " he snapped. He rose up gracefully from his seat and stomped across the ship to the waiting medic. "I know, and I still don't like it. What are you going to do when she finds out abouts the risks or side affects? How will you comfort her when she realizes she's no longer  _ herself _ ?"

He felt the medic's field shut down defensively with that accusation. Ratchet's optics glowed just a little brighter as he grimaced. Wheeljack couldn’t care less about the medic’s internal conflict.

"Just understand that ten thousand years of strict apology won't be enough to erase this sin," the wrecker stated lowly in warning. He stared the other mech down but Ratchet held his ground. 

After a cycle of air, the red and white mech spoke. "I won't apologize," the medic said softly but firmly. "She needs this. And I know I deserve no forgiveness for doing this to her, so I won't ask for it."

A grunt escaped Wheeljack and he pushed past Ratchet. "Good to know you feel the same way, Doc. Now let's get this over with."

He ignored the fast, shocked blinks the medic gave him as he stomped down the ramp. Walking at a steady pace, he reached the other ship where June was hovering like a skittish wash-bot. Her young and innocent field forced him to dig his pedes into the organic sod a little more, just to keep himself focused and grounded. He avoided looking at her after that.

Things passed like a dream for Wheeljack. They somehow got inside the ship where Magnus was waiting. He ignored the commander's presence the best he could until Ratchet kicked him off his own ship. The commander was surprisingly compliant, but Wheeljack could care less. 

He tried listening to Ratchet explain the process and kept a careful optic on June. The mutant seemed a little shocked and overwhelmed. She didn't ask many questions, but there was one that made both Autobots freeze for just an astrosecond. The more time Wheeljack spent with the femme the more impressed he became with her intuitiveness. Ratchet quickly covered that angle, too. It certainly was no lie, but it prickled his protoform to know that significant parts were left out. 

But Wheeljack kept his vocalizer silent.

Then, Ratchet put her in medical stasis. Wheeljack let the proper medic do the careful opening of her processor. He tensed when the sawblade swiftly cut through June's helm, but Ratchet was beyond careful. Every incision and pull was calculated and true. It was a textbook procedure. And like a true medic, Ratchet quickly found the hard drives and connected the tiny electrodes to them. After cleaning the area, and his servos, he connected the wires to a cord, which was already connected to a box. A medical transmitter; Wheeljack had no idea where the old coot found the junk, but it was too late to ask. Ratchet was already sitting in the other seat and waiting to begin.

Wheeljack pushed himself off against the wall and took his place. No words were exchanged, though Ratchet did give him a solemn look before leaning back into his seat and giving a firm nod. Picking up the first instrument, Wheeljack began his work. It wasn't as smooth or as quick as the medic's, but the wrecker did praise himself for a job well done. A procedure like this was normally reserved for the highest levels of the best hospitals, but here he was taking a crack at it in an old ship on a backwater planet. Good thing the intelligent life on this rock hadn't figured out how real viruses worked. If they did, then maybe Ratchet would have backed down on this crazy plan.

But no matter. Wheeljack was done. He took a step around Ratchet and signaled with his servos the countdown. Ratchet obviously couldn't reply, with his self-induced A-stasis, but his optics did cycle twice intelligently. So Wheeljack stepped back and took the other cord and connected the tiny wires to that. Then, with the care of an eccentric and paranoid explosives expert, Wheeljack pulled his field in tighter than he would when spying on an active Decepticon camp. It was terribly uncomfortable but necessary and would only need to last for him to safely exit the ship. Then with a brief entreaty to the godless universe, he plugged Ratchet's cord into the box, flipped the big red switch and backed away as fast as he could. 

Without bothering with the lift, he jumped straight down onto the ground. Even as fast as he was, he still got caught in the first wave of the mixed fields. His whole body shuddered as it tried to neutralize the invasive feelings. Taking a stumbling step forward, he headed to his own ship where he hoped to find peace and quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I think I accidentally created a lot of fans of June/Ratchet. Whoopsie. I still fell for them (hard) and I know what’s gonna happen next and wellllll…. Heartbreak’s a knockout, lemme tell ya that. Good thing stuff didn’t get too serious, amiright, right? Trollololololol…. I’ll let myself out, thanks.  
> And expect multiple updates in the coming week! I know holidays are coming up for some, and I know I usually need some decompression time from family, so I’ll try to throw out some chapters for your enjoyment! So have fun, and be sure to check in. I love hearing from you guys.   
> Thanks for everything!  
> ~TFC


	15. The whispers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! Sorry if there’s errors in this chapters, but I really wanted to get it out.  
> And incase any of you are wondering about how time works in this series and the Cybertronian to Earth equivalents, I try to base it off official units of time as found on the Transformer’s wiki, but I believe I’ve used some terms interchangeably, such as; megacycle and joor. Both of these are roughly the equivalent of an hour, but a joor is precisely an hour and fifteen minutes and is the standard ‘universal’ hour, while a megacycle is around fifty-five minutes on Earth, though it can change depending on the planet (I’ll explain what I mean in further detail later in the story). An astrosecond is approximately 0.5 of a second. A klick is 1.2 minutes. A bream (or breem, I might be spelling it differently) is 8.3 minutes. But considering the inconsistency of even official stuff, feel free to ask me if you have questions about how time and the tracking of it works in this story. I’m bound to make mistakes and I appreciate you pointing things out or asking about things that don’t make sense.

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ Notice: Atte-on all local Decepti- for-s. Orders to merge at local -ordinates 41°52′55″N 87°37′40″W for military action. _

_ Notice: Orders to ki-l -l humans on sight. _

_ Notice: Exceptions includ- Jackson Darby, Rafael Es- -lan Gould. Except- include any collared sl-ves. _

_ Notice: Orders to surround and des-y -man city known as -go. _

_ Notice: Orders effective immediately. _

\- Intercepted Decepticon broadcast. Decode and file? Y/N

**Chapter 15: The whispers**

It was a dark, hazy fog that June wandered through. She couldn’t recall how she ended up in this dream-like world, but a persistent feeling told her that she willingly walked into it. Out of the muddled darkness came bright flashes of images and sound of things that were completely alien to her. Garbled static shouts mixed with the droning buzz of lectures. Diagrams and x-rays popped up in countless waves with the accompanying data becoming clearer with each new surge. Conversations from the breakroom and stuttering verbal tests created the backbone-  _ spinal shaft _ \- of her communications. Gestures, feelings, and the nuances of Cybertron were clearer to her as each bream passed. How could she have missed all those social cues? She was a complete slugbot- but she was human... Wasn’t she?

She was human.

Humans didn’t have this… this sixth sense with which to communicate. They used verbality, tone, and expressions, not this open field of which there were limitless pathways to direct her thoughts and feelings. It was alien. It was far too alien.

Just when June thought her panic had reached a peak, all of the images, thoughts, and feelings she had experienced so far abruptly cut off. They were strategically folded and filed away, with each box being carefully, even caringly, numbered and marked. Sometimes she could feel a scowl of embarrassment when some files, like from the early days of university, were crammed together. 

_ Not the highlight of my career, but I had to start somewhere. _

There was a note of shame and bitter failure when the first patient died on the table. June cried. That shouldn’t have happened. But it was the cost of experience. 

_ Learn. Learn from my mistakes. _

Abruptly, that memory was also sealed off. She shouldn’t touch it until she had learned the basics first.

All the other memories were also sealed. She could barely fathom the techniques and snap decisions of the field medic as the fear and panic were quashed in an effort to save just one more fighter in the midst of battle. The attentiveness of listening for the commanding officer’s orders became just as important to her as did ignoring the plantitive cries of the wounded.

But she wasn’t at war! She wasn’t on a side! She… she was a medic. She only wanted to care for the sick and injured. 

And she was a mother. Her priority was Jack.

June found herself standing alone in front of the hospital’s doors. It was the very same hospital she had spent a decade working at. A little confused, she turned to look around and saw no vehicles in the parking lot. That wasn’t right. The hospital was always staffed. 

Slowly and hazily, as if the sun was beating down so hard that a mirage was forming in front of her, a familiar ambulance rolled to a stop at the curb. She frowned at it, confused as to why no one was getting out, or delivering a new patient. After several seconds of just waiting, June felt to walk toward it. But the ambulance backed up. 

_ Go inside _ .

June felt an invisible push and she shuddered. That was weird. This had to be a dream. But still, she followed that directive. She pushed the doors of the hospital open and found a familiar sight. There were the same brown and cream tiled floors, with the brown cushioned chairs lined up against the wall, and the front desk that was simultaneously intimidating and inviting. No one was around though, and no music was playing. It was off-putting, and June quickly hurried to the desk. Everything was much as she remembered it; clean, organized, and with files and paperwork stacked in somewhat hazardous columns. She sat down in the chair and rolled up to the computer. 

She input her name, but blinked in surprise when her password didn’t work. June tried it again. And again she was denied. A concerned frown formed on her lips. She didn’t remember changing her password. So immediately she turned to the numerous binders and found one that she used often. But instead of the stickynotes she would leave for herself and other staff, she found slick, metallic pages that seemed impossibly delicate but sturdy. On the pages were lines and lines of embossed characters. It wasn’t English but as she continued to stare at them, the words and sentences made themselves clear on their own. She flipped back to the cover and on the front it now said  _ Encyclopedia of Anatomy, vol. 1.  _

June looked up at the stacks and stacks of information. Volumes upon volumes of what was apparently only the start of her education. She sat back in wide-eyed disbelief. This would take a lifetime to learn. Maybe multiple lifetimes.

As if handling a bomb, June carefully set the binder down on the desk. She saw her trembling hands and intertwined her fingers to keep them steady. It didn’t work. She needed air. She stood up quickly and walked to the doors. When she pushed them open she was greeted with bright, blinding white light and June blacked out.

* * *

A garbled voice spoke to her through the fog of her mind, and June squinted. When the same voice spoke louder, she frowned. 

“You know, that’s not the wisest choice of words to tell a patient.”

Ratchet hovered above her with the cybertronian equivalent of a pen-light in his hand. He blinked at her several times in surprise that matched the stunned EM field. When June moved to sit up, he put the light away and assisted her.

“Whoa,” June muttered. Vertigo filled her head-  _ helm _ , and she brought a hand-  _ servo _ up to brace herself.

“Easy does it,” Ratchet commanded though it was soft and sincere. “You need to let your systems recalibrate before you move around.”

“Right, pressure line equilibrium.” June stared at the floor beneath her, unaware of the other bots’ reactions. She only knew she had a headache-  _ an overloaded processor _ \- and just needed to slow down for a minut-  _ klick. _

There was a low rumble that June identified as discomposure from the wrecker, though Wheeljack’s words didn’t align with the feeling. “So it worked,” he stated flatly. June risked a look and saw that he was leaning charastically against the wall with his arms crossed and lipplates pressed firmly together into a scowl.

“All the better,” that new mech, Ultra Magnus said. “Now we can focus on finishing fixing the  _ Jackhammer _ .”

“Wait, it’s still not fixed?” June asked in surprise. She kept tight control over her relief though. The others had to be anxious to leave the planet, but not her, and she didn’t want her personal grievances to interfere. “How long has it been?”

“Five joors.”  _ Six hours and fifteen minutes. _ Not as long as she thought. But it made sense. Slanted light was streaming through the broad windows so it couldn’t have been too long since sunrise.

“Oh.” June had no idea how long it actually took to fix a spacecraft, but to her it felt like it was dragging on. It had to have been seriously damaged for it to take two ‘bots almost two days to finish.

Ratchet butted in as he gestured for June to stand up. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Let’s make sure that you can still move. Don’t want rudimentary static syndrome to set in.”

She took his han- _ servo _ willinging, but frowned. Something quivered in the back of her brain-  _ or was it processor? _ \- when the medical terminology was rattled off. It was like the faint echoes of a test she had taken from way back in collage and the stupid little mnemonics she repeated to ace the test. But the feeling wasn’t quite right. But by the time she stood up, the odd sense of  _ -error-defective-misplaced-files- _ had faded. 

It was quite awkward for her as everyone got onto the lift and were taken to the ground safely. Ratchet was, of course, holding her hand in a show of keeping her balanced, though it felt like he was unconsciously drawing strength from her. He had to be tired. It was explained earlier that both their bodies would remain still in stasis, but while June was fully enveloped in a sleep-like state, Ratchet was fully conscious and working to do whatever complicatedness it took to transfer information like that. He was still exhausted.

Wheeljack, too, looked unwell. Knowing what she did about the mech, he obviously returned to fixing his ship, instead of resting. And it was a little odd. Before, he would give her quick, disbelieving glances or occasionally scowl at her when she messed up the paint job but other than that first sentence after she awoke he seemed to completely ignore her.

Quite honestly, June was most comfortable with Ultra Magnus at the moment. Stiff and business-like, she held no expectations of a friendly ‘get-well-soon’ card from him. It was almost a relief when he immediately stepped off the platform and headed to the  _ Jackhammer _ .

“Soldier, let’s continue where we left off.”

Wheeljack twitched, but stepped off the lift as well. “I’m not your soldier,” he growled. “And it’s  _ my  _ ship.” 

“We’ll stay over here for a while,” Ratchet butted into the escalating argument as smoothly as the cantankerous old medic he was. “We need to do some basic tests before I clear June.”

“Joy,” she muttered as she also stepped off the platform. But obediently June stayed where she was and waited for this next exciting session to begin.

When the other two had moved off, Ratchet dropped her hand and took a step back to examine her. Unimpressed, June folded her arms-  _ upper struts _ \- across her che- _ chassis _ . 

“I thought it was our minds that were affected, Ratchet, not our bodies,” she stated bluntly.

Ratchet flinched and dragged his ey-  _ optics  _ up from their feet- _ pedes _ to face her. He took a long moment before his optics cycled to awareness. “Correct,” he said, as if nothing was wrong. “But I feel as if I shouldn’t need to remind you that the mind affects the body just as much as the body can affect the mind. And you are a newspark. You still don’t have the best control over your motor functions.”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” June sighed as she dropped her arms. She tilted her head and gave a pout as she seriously asked, “And what about you? You’re looking worse for wear. Anyone going to give you a check-up?”

Ratchet probably would have looked offended by that if he wasn’t so tired. He still managed to sound affronted though, “I’m perfectly aware of my condition, June.”

“Un-hun. And are you going to do anything about it?”

“ _ After _ I check your wellness.”

June gave a long, drawn-out sigh. Stubborn, stubborn mech! But dedicated. June tried quashing the irritation and replacing it with compassion. When she felt it was the right balance she flicked him with the EM field. 

“Fine,” she consented. She quirked her lipplates at Ratchet’s startled expression, but didn’t comment on it. “Let’s get started before you keel over from exhaustion.” 

“Very well.” Ratchet straightened, looking much more like himself. “To begin, stretch your right upper strut to forward-facing with your servo in-line.”

June gave him a blank stare as she processed what the medic said. He gave no clue as to what he wanted, but stared impassively back. With a half-shrug, June decided to just go with it and stuck her arm out.

Ratchet nodded in confirmation. “Now, turn your palm up.”

June did as she was told. They did this for the next hour; Ratchet giving her instructions on how to move her body, interspersed with questions reminiscent of his earlier testing. It seemed to go well but near the end June could tell that Ratchet was running low on power. He would take longer to give her the next command and it was as if he had to compute the answers to the questions he asked himself. It was at that point that June finally put her foot down.

“OK, I think that’s enough testing,” she said cheerily but with an edge to her tone. She, in contrast, was feeling rather energetic. She couldn’t stop tapping her fingers or toes to an invisible beat.

Ratchet was slow to respond. “Very well. I’ll clear you with a clean bill of health,” he determined after scanning her with his own mediwrist.

“Glad to know I’m cleared to do nothing,” she cheekily replied. A frown appeared on her face and she asked, “But seriously, what am I supposed to do now? I’m guessing it’s too risky to help out the quarreling duo.”

They had heard the loud bickering and even louder pounding coming from the  _ Jackhammer _ . June personally wanted to stay as far away from that mess as she was allowed to. The medical officer seemed to agree.

He had to think for a moment, but eventually said, “We’ll head inside Magnus’ ship. There’s some information I want to review.”

“And for you to rest,” June insisted.

“And rest,” he agreed.

Once they were inside it was certainly much quieter. June raised an eyebrow and walked over to the far corner. Strapped securely to the wall was the hammer Ratchet was so insistent on protecting. June couldn’t help but feel slightly bitter toward the item. That tool was something Ratchet believed was worth sacrificing his life over.

Hesitantly she asked without looking at him, “Is it really worth your life?”

She heard Ratchet move away towards the seats. “It’s not necessarily the item itself, but the power it contains. And to keep Megatron from obtaining any more power than he already has.”

June thought about that. It’s not that she couldn’t understand his statements, but more that she found them terribly sad.

“I realize it’s not really my place to say it, but I don’t think that it’s worth your price.”

“No,” Ratchet spoke quietly, “You wouldn’t understand. That monster destroyed our entire home planet in his mad quest for power. He even carried the conflict into the stars, affecting many other planets. Including this one.”

June’s fingers-  _ digits? _ had reached out to brush the golden shaft of the hammer, but they paused. Somehow, it always came back to her home. Jasper was already destroyed, but how much of her world would be crushed under Megatron’s pedes?

“And the war continues on. Will it ever end?”

Ratchet was quiet for a long time. So long, that June figured he simply didn’t have an answer. But after the holoscreen changed several times with a swipe of his servo, he spoke. “Many have died or lost hope trying to find answers to those questions. But for me, it will not end until Optimus succeeds.”

June raised her eyebrows at that. There was a lot wrong with that statement, but she didn’t feel as if now was the time to rebuttal. So with a quiet sigh, she left the hammer and hovered behind Ratchet. 

“What’s it say?” she asked curiously. There were long lines of cybertronian text that at once seemed foregin and familiar.

“Reports on the Ark’s progress. Ultra Magnus seems to have gathered more crew than I had hoped.”

“You mentioned the Ark before, but what is it?”

Ratchet was startled enough to look away from the screen. “Oh, right. I forgot you’re not actually Cybertronian and don’t know what the Ark is.” June just gave him an unappreciative look. He quickly moved on, “The Ark is possibly the greatest engineering feat of the Golden Age. One of several built for colonists, it’s a massive spacecraft suited for not only carrying many Cybertronians to a distant planet, but with all the necessary tools and functions for both deep-space exploration and starting a new life elsewhere. Of course, near the end of the war, the Ark in particular was upgraded to include top-of-the-line defensive systems as it serves as the Autobot base off-world.”

“Huh, so it’s the Cybertronian version of the Starship Enterprise?” 

Ratchet merely frowned. “Rafael also made that exact same connection, though I am of the opinion that the Ark is far more regal.”

She couldn’t help herself. June snorted before laughing out loud. Ratchet was such a stiffbot! Of course he would frown at the human’s immediate first thought.

“Well, it’s either the Enterprise, Noah’s Ark, or the Mayflower that people are going to relate to when you explain it that way, so take your pick.”

“Yes, I’m well-aware of your history. None of it, though, compares to Cybertron’s Golden Age.”

That got June thinking. “So how  _ do _ you know so much about human history?”

Ratchet returned to the screen he was reading and spoke off-handedly. “Your world wide web was immensely helpful despite how discombobulating it is. Having an interconnected information network as complex as yours is a sign of civilization, and one of the reasons why Optimus chose to introduce us to your government. With nearly the whole world having near-limitless access to this information network it would actually be much harder to conduct our investigations in secret, unlike on some other underdeveloped planets.”

“Uh, thanks?” June wasn’t sure if she should be offended by the medic’s tone or not. “But how  _ did _ you access the internet without a computer? I mean, don’t you need to be part of a line or something?”

This time it was Ratchet’s turn to laugh. “Primus, you really don’t know much, do you?”

This time June  _ was _ offended, “Well,  _ sorry _ , but I’ve spent most of my time working ten-hour shifts at a hospital so I don’t exactly have a PhD in computer science.”

Ratchet’s outburst was over as quickly as it started, but a hint of a smile was still on his face. “To answer your question, no. But Cybertronian computers and software are far superior to humans’. It’s…” he paused as he searched for the right analogy, “It’s like the difference between a bed sheet and a ballroom dress. Both are made of cloth and cover an organic’s body, but I’m sure there’s a preference to which you would wear to a gathering.”

“OK, I can admit that, but I’m the kind of person that would prefer to stay at home under the sheet with a bowl of popcorn watching t.v.” June couldn’t help herself. She just had to find a way to defend humankind, even if she didn’t know a single thing about computers.

There was a light hum from her companion, but he had moved on to another report. June rolled her ey- _ optics _ . Soon, though, she found her mind cluttered with thoughts.

“Hey, Ratchet?”

“Hmm?”

“Seriously asking, how do you access the internet? I- I want to know what’s happened since- ...since that light thingy. There’s got to be news reports on it...”

June pattered off. Ratchet had frozen midway in swiping his screen again. Slowly, he turned to look at her. She didn’t like that look.

“Earth does know about Megatron’s attack,” he stated carefully.

“Well, I figured that,” she said stiffly. “But I need to know how bad it is. Ratchet, I can’t leave here without some knowledge.”

For a moment she thought he would refuse to tell her, but he gave a weary sigh. “I understand. Before we do that though, there’s one last thing we should do.”

June looked at him curiously, then frowned when he seemed to pull a cord out of nowhere. “How’d you do that?” she demanded.

“Subspace. Did you never see Arce-”

June’s eyes got wide as she clearly saw a shadow of pain and hate slide across Ratchet’s face. He gripped the cord so tightly she thought it would stay permanently bent. But just as quickly as it happened, Ratchet spoke up again, though it was certainly colder than it had recently been.

“Subspace is… well, there’s been much study on the topic, but there’s not a lot of factual information. Mostly just theories. But every Cybertronian has some indefinable ‘pocket’ within them that helps with transformation. This pocket is where extra mass is stored. Overtime, we learned that when not filled with our personal mass the pocket can be accessed and used as a means of storing small, non-living items.”

June blinked at that explanation. There seemed to be a lot of information missing, but it was quickly set into a folder marked,  _ burning questions to ask later. _ “Huh, sounds useful.”

“It is. I’ll be sure to teach you later. For now, place this against your audials.”

Bending over, June plucked the rounded end of the wire out of Ratchet’s ha- _ servo _ . It was a giant sized version of disposable electrodes she would put on patients. Not entirely sure what she was doing, she pressed it against the side of her head where her ear should have been. Ratchet then pressed the other end against his head. A moment later June felt a light buzz and glyphs appeared in the corner of her vision.

“What the-” June yelped as she dropped the wire.

Ratchet gave a faint smile. “So, do you see my name?”

June ignored his question in favor of demanding her own. “What was that!?”

“Think of it as a personal phone number. I just gave you a way to talk to me in case we’re not near enough to have a conversation. It should work for short distances, though.”

June clamped down on her panic. Stupid, freaking robot body. It should not be normal to just stick a wire in your ear and then suddenly talk with somebody like over a phone. Gritting her teeth, she asked, “OK, I’ll bite. How short is short?”

“Without help? One human mile. The majority of Cybertron’s infrastructure was built with this function in mind so communications happened planet-wide. Here on Earth we managed to use your trashy satellites for that kind of range, though I had to write up nearly a dozen firewalls and protocols besides constantly run health diagnostics on the team to prevent infections.”

And just like that, June came up with a dozen more questions. How one could get what sounded like a cold from just picking up the phone was beyond her. But hey, Cybertronians were weird. Ratchet at least gave her a straight answer.

“With that out of the way, I’ll show you how to work the controls. But I’m warning you, June, you won’t like what you find.”

June was snapped out of her distracting thoughts. She had almost forgotten what she wanted help with in the first place, but with Ratchet’s reminder her anxiety came back in full force. Taking a seat in the other chair, Ratchet stood up and showed her the controls on the chair’s side. With just a tap a glowing holographic screen was before her. Ratchet had to type in a password and fiddle with it but soon enough she saw the familiar empty bar in the search engine.

“So even aliens use Google,” she said drily.

Ratchet just gave a tired shrug in response. “I assumed it would meet your needs. I’ll go into recharge now. If… you need help, would you mind asking one of the others?”

So that’s how tired he was. June felt a little guilty making him stay awake this long just to answer her pestering questions.

“Yeah, I will. Get some sleep.” She watched with pity as Ratchet slowly sank back into the other chair. “And Ratchet…”

“Hmmm?”

“Th-Thank you.”  _ For everything. _

“Hmm.”

His eyes went dark and his body slumped. June might have been a little freaked out with the sudden shut-down if she didn’t feel a small pulse of gratitude a moment later.

“Sleep well,” she whispered.

Then she turned to the screen with a frown and straightened her shoulders. “Let’s get started,” she said quietly to herself. Apprehension, curiosity, and a strange sense of gratitude overwhelmed her as she set about this next task.

* * *

“Protocol states that you are to fully drain the energon reserves before tampering with the influx valve.”

“Yeah, I know what the book says,” Wheeljack snapped, “A friend wrote it. Thrilling read.”

“So why do you refuse to follow his directions?”

“Cuz he’s wrong.” OK, so not really. Truthfully, it was sound advice before the rationing started. Right now Wheeljack was not about to waste any more of the precious substance to follow a little thing called protocol. Especially since Mr. Protocol was standing right next to him and he could annoy the crap out of the stiffbot.

Pinching the line tightly in his servo, Wheeljack carefully unscrewed the broken valve for inspection. He lightly growled as he spotted the issue. There was a tiny crack along the back of the line as it met the joint. Not the worst of problems, but he knew from experience that it was only a precursor to more issues. As soon as he got out of this system he’d hit the closest resupply depot. No point in trying to escort the lady if they ended up getting stranded on a distant moon because of-

Startled by the newcomer’s field, Wheeljack’s servo slipped. “Scrap!” was all he managed to say before the energon spilled over.

“What do you need?” Ultra Magnus asked. Primus alive, the commander didn’t even soften his tone for the poor femme. Couldn’t he tell that she was upset with that kind of field?

Wheeljack spared a glance over his shoulder as soon as he got the spill under control. June didn’t look too good. Her face was dark and her upper struts were pulled tightly across herself. She looked a little startled at Ultra Magnus’s question, but calmed herself.

“Actually,” she gave the both of them a quivering smile that was a lot closer to a grimace. “I was wondering if there was anything that needed to be hit. I’m just- I’m a little angry right now and wanted to blow off some steam.”

A little? If this femme called that only a little anger, by the Fallen, Wheeljack would like to be at least three galaxies away when she  _ really _ got angry.

“Not at the moment,” Ultra Magnus answered. He didn’t seem too bothered by her fluctuating field. He did frown at her and opened his intake to probably scold at her lack of control.

Wheeljack stepped in before that. “Hey, you can still help me out, though. I need a tool from the box over there.”

June perked up at that and the anger dissipated. Quickly she walked over and knelt next to the tool kit and peered inside.

“Should be near the top. A clamp looking thing with needles on the end.”

“A bracket infuser.”

“Like she’s gonna know what that is,” Wheeljack snarked. He swore he heard a snort of laughter from her as she held up the item.

“Clamp thingy with needles on the end,” June declared proudly. As she passed him, she smiled at Ultra Magnus in a friendly manner and explained, “Wheeljack’s right. I’m a woman. I run off words like thingamabob and whatchamacallit.”

The wrecker actually laughed along with her. As he took the tool out of her servo he explained to her, “Yeah, well, he’s Ultra Magnus. Proper terminology is important to him.”

“It is important for clear communication!”

“In fact,” he continued without even acknowledging the commander, “Proper everything is his mojo.”

The former human’s laugh was like flavored rust-sticks; absolutely delectable and exceedingly rare to Wheeljack’s audials. Surprisingly Ultra Magnus was also put at ease with her light chuckles, even if it came at his expense. Which is why the wanderer hated to ask what he did. But it was for the best. Rage like that shouldn’t be contained behind smiles.

“So what’s got you so angry right now?” He attached the clamp to the line, which both stopped the leakage and helped pull away any energon out of the line it wasn’t supposed to into.

June sigh and turned to lean against the ship. Tipping her head forward she mumbled, “Everything, I guess. I just- I don’t want this to be reality.”

“Still haven’t figured it out yet?” He asked with mild surprise. He figured the Data Transfer would have been solid enough proof for her, but maybe Ratchet did a better job blocking the majority of the files than he thought. 

“Depends. Do you still have that grenade? Cuz I have a target that I’d like to try it out on.”

“Excuse me, what’s this about a grenade?”

“And what target would that be?” Wheeljack asked in growing glee. He had one guess and would bet the  _ Jackhammer’s _ entire supply of energon on it.

June’s optics flickered to the commander but decided to answer Wheeljack’s question first. “Megatron.” It would seem that Wheeljack would get to keep his supply. But June’s anger was coming back in full force. “Did you know he managed to send several nuclear warheads to Washington, D.C.? And they exploded. BBC news estimates that more than three hundred million people will die from radiation poisoning within the next six months. Three. Hundred.  _ Million _ .”

Wheeljack fiddled with some wires as he listened to her speak. This honestly wasn’t news to him; He had watched his very own planet die. But it was new for June. It felt like she was having a hard time processing this. He couldn’t blame her for wishing that this was just a dream. He, fortunately or unfortunately, it was difficult to tell anymore, let go of that falsehood long ago.

“You need to keep your anger in check, sol-”

The former engineer turned around as fast as he could when he heard that stutter. The commander wasn’t known for stuttering, or cutting off his sentences. But there he was, standing rather uncomfortably, either because he didn’t know how to address June or because she was giving him a glare worthy of death. The more time he spent with the femme the more Wheeljack liked her but also prayed that she wouldn’t ever turn on him.

“Do you know,  _ sir _ ,” June started icily, “what radioactive poisoning does to a human?” After a short, tense pause, the former nurse explained, “Depending on how close to the blast sight a person was, symptoms can being within just a few minutes or hours. Skin burns. Severe nausea and vomiting. Extreme nervousness sets in and is only amplified by the confusion as the central nervous system beings to go haywire before it shuts down. Death will occur within three days if treatment is not begun immediately. And ironically, it somehow gets worse if you’re further away. You experience the same symptoms but it’s only extended for longer, over the course of several weeks or months. But in the end, you  _ die! _ ”

There was a heavy silence. Ultra Magnus had shut his intake and narrowed his eyes with June’s explanation. He seemed to be debating how to handle the outraged femme. June wasn’t over, though.

Her voice somehow got lower and more controlled. “Washington, D.C., ground zero now, had nearly half a million residents. Half a million people are already dead or dying right now. Baltimore had six-hundred thousand. That’s another six-hundred added to the death count. And New York city alone has over eight-million people. They’re  _ all _ expected to die within four months! Do you understand!?  _ Millions _ are caught in the aftermath of this war of which they know absolutely nothing about. They have no idea why has happened to them. And you’re telling me to keep my anger in check? If anything, I feel that I’m not angry enough.”

Wheeljack didn’t like Ultra Magnus, but he admired the ball bearings the mech had. With barely a pause, the commander stared at her impassively. Nothing could be read from his field, which was the exact opposite of the femme’s. Her’s was wild and dizzying, though the wrecker noted she was trying to stifle it. 

“Megatron has been known to destroy entire planets before. He has crushed the lives of trillions in other systems.”

Like Wheeljack noted, Ultra Magnus had ball bearings. Unfortunately, the Autobot Commander was sadly not equipped with the proper social protocols. Of all the things for the mech to say, that was probably one of the worst for the mutant to hear.

“Is that so?” June asked in a terrifyingly soft tone. “And is Earth to become one more statistic to your war? But it doesn’t really matter to you because… What did you call us, Wheeljack?” The wrecker felt his engine stall for just a moment when he was suddenly called out. “Jack told me to ignore some of the slurs you Cybertronians referred to us humans as… Oh, right, fleshies was the term, right? Or squishies? Organics seems pretty mild but can still be offensive. But what’s really- no… what’s downright  _ heinous _ is that you guys go flying around space fighting your bitter war long after what is beyond reasonable, destroying lives,  _ sentient _ lives, and worlds, and civilizations in your bid to prevent ‘the other side’ from winning. Well, guess what!? There  _ ARE _ no winners here! Just a terribly sad race of losers who don’t know how to keep their own problems to themselves.”

Wheeljack couldn’t honestly think of a reply. There were no words that would be comforting. There were no facts that wouldn’t hurt. And June’s accusations weren’t inaccurate. He, along with the majority of Cybertron, thought little of organics. They died so easily and so quickly that there wasn’t a  _ point _ to getting to know them. And Wheeljack had figured out long ago that he was a loser. He’d lost everything but he swore that if he was going to lose his life to you could bet that he would take as much Decepticon filth with him as possible.

At last, the femme seemed to run out of steam. She was still indigent, which could be told by how she avoided their gazes and wrapped her upper struts around her chassis defiantly, but her EM field was pulled in enough that the two mechs could relax their own. No words were spoken and the wind could offer only so much during this tense pause. Wheeljack sure as heck wasn’t about to speak up. He was targeted one too many times already.

“We may not be winners in this war,” the Autobot second-in-command began solemnly, “but if Megatron is not stopped he  _ will _ continue universe-wide destruction. Of that, you can believe.”

June curled her lipplates in a snarl. “I don’t doubt it. What I can’t believe is how long this war has gone on in a stalemate. You’d think somebody would have called it quits by now. Or died. Or sued for peace any way possible. But forget it. I know talking to you is pointless.”

She pushed herself off the side of the ship and moved to stalk away but she didn’t even get two steps before Ultra Magnus stiffened into attention and his optics cycled in agitation. Then, Wheeljack received the message from his ship.

Incoming fliers.

Moving on instinct, Wheeljack dropped his tool and grabbed June’s wrist. With a tug he pulled her forward and she squeaked in protest. 

“Gotta move! Drones incoming!”

Her intake snapped shut and her optics got wide. She turned to look at the other ship the Ultra Magnus had barreled to. 

“What’s gonna-”

“Get inside,” he ordered and June stumbled up the ramp. The ship was a bit roomier with only two bots and several boxes less of junk so Wheeljack had no problems sliding into his seat. June took a corner for herself staring intently out the window as if she could see the fliers.

“Wrap your EM field in tight. I’m going to increase the ship's dampeners but it may not be enough if they get too close.”

“Aren’t we going to get out of here?”

Wheeljack’s voice was clipped and he deftly managed the controls. “No. In this case it’s better for Ultra Magnus to fly up and away as bait. The con’s shouldn’t know how badly damaged the  _ Jackhammer  _ is, but if they did, you can bet your last reserve they’d come in blazing. But, if there’s a new ship on this planet that will become their main target, which buys me more time to get this pretty piece of junk flyin’.”

“Will they come back for us?”

“Who? The con’s? Only if Ultra Magnus doesn’t time his getaway right.”

“No, I mean…”

Oh. Of course the femme would ask about that. “Unlikely. Once Ultra Magnus becomes a target Soundwave will probably send more eradicons out to get him. So they’ll bounce around the planet for a while before making for space. But don’t worry. We’ll meet up with them.”

“OK.” June had thankfully pulled in her field just like he told her. Anxiously, Wheeljack monitored the screens. Ultra Magnus had already lifted off and was pulling away at an angle. The group of five fliers the ships scanners had picked up were drawing closer, but he saw the exact moment they decided to give chase. He didn’t allow himself to relax though. Anything could happen with that many fliers on your tail. But after a breem had passed Wheeljack sat back.

“It worked. We’re in the clear.”

He wasn’t entirely sure if the femme heard him. She was pressed against the corner with her servos folded and pressing against her forehelm. She didn’t seem willing to release her field, either. It was so tightly wrapped around her that she could have been a ghost. Slowly, though, she online her optics and Wheeljack was met with that startlingly deep blue color.

“Good,” she whispered. June looked as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Wheeljack sighed. Great, now he had to think of what to do with the frightened femme. With her being so wound up like this wasn’t good. "So you wanna help out?” he started. With her rapid blinks he took that as permission to continue. “I saw what you did with the communications’ box. Confused the pits outta me. You did it correctly, though, if really sloppily."

June cringed, but it didn’t stop her from pushing. Good, her field was stretching. "So can I?"

“Yeah, I need you to monitor the whispers."

"Whispers?" The femme was totally lost and effectively sidetracked. Their scare wasn’t entirely forgotten but she seemed to be back to her curious self.

"Decepticon chatter," Wheeljack explained as he gestured for her to come closer. "I constantly hack their channels for information. It's partly what makes me so good at being a wrecker. But I can't do that  _ and _ fix my ship at the same time. So you'll take over."

“OK… But I can’t hack.”

“You shouldn’t need to. I’ve got a program that can crack the basic comms by itself. After that, it’ll be Soundwave’s whispers and you do  _ not _ want to mess with him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. So what do I listen for?” At least she seemed eager, though it really was a boring job. He had no idea how Blaster could keep doing it for so long.

“Coordinates. Locations. Times.” He brought up the screen of audio files and pointed at the various graphics. “The grunts really aren’t supposed to give away that kind of information, but they tend to slip up. It’s how I can track their movements and find the energon mines.”

His explanation continued and June was on the fast track to becoming a spymaster herself. As he got deeper into the details she looked less enthusiastic but continued along anyway. When he felt that she was sufficiently able to manage the communication’s system herself, he wished her luck and exited the ship.

Primus, it had been a long sol. And the Earth’s rotation was barely half over. But, he was at least alone for the moment. It was quiet, and he could actually hear himself think now, instead of having the rusty ol’ commander objecting to his every move. For Vos, though, the bot should take an extra shot of oil to loosen him up. 

He stood before the gaping hole and inspected the work done so far. All things considered, he  _ had _ made incredible progress, but it just wasn’t enough. Though the majority of the energon lines had finally been re-routed, several of the core powerlines spliced together, dampers fixed, thrusters thoroughly checked, and communications reset, they were still stuck. Of all the times for the  _ Jackhammer _ to suffer a major blow, it was now. Of course, never was the appropriate time for something of his to get blown up, but good karma had never really been his thing. The pit-spawned eradicon that had done them in hadn’t just gotten lucky. They had to have been blessed with the golden ring of perfect fortune to have oh-so-perfectly destroyed his anti-gravitational propulsion system. Without it, they were stuck on this rock. Without it, the  _ Jackhammer  _ just wouldn’t have the power to break through the planet’s atmosphere, let alone it’s gravitational pull.

And he was pretty sure Earth was fresh out of cybertronian anti-gravitational propulsion systems. If the Autobot base was still around, and Ratchet could scrounge up the inferior materials for him, Wheeljack  _ might  _ have been able to cannibalize this busted up piece and recreate one that worked long enough to reach a proper supply depot. But that was far from reality. He hadn’t specifically told Ratchet, and especially not Ultra Magnus, the problem, but he suspected that the medic suspected what the problem was. No doubt he felt the effects of the failing propulsion system when the ship’s gravity sensors went haywire with the frenzied and unsuccessful escape.

They were lucky, though. Stupidly lucky that it was an Autobot that happened upon them, and not a Decepticon patrol. Time was running out for them, though. He could feel it in his struts. He heard some of the other wreckers talk about how they knew their end was coming, but he always scoffed at that. He swore that if he ever got those meaningless tingles in his struts he’d flat out deny them. But right now he was having a hard time concentrating while soldering the last few lines together. Which is why he jumped nearly sky-high when he felt overwhelming panic coming from the other side of the walls.

Leaving his work alone, he quickly entered his ship to find that June had stood from her seat and was so focused on the incoming transmission that she didn’t even notice his approach. Wheeljack’s optics cycled wide when she smashed the replay and the static-filled commands were again repeated. 

No wonder she was going into a frenzy. This was about as close to undeniable proof the femme was ever going to get about wether or not her son was alive. And still human.

Wheeljack frowned. He had choices, big choices, to make within the next klick. It was suicide to take an untrained civilian into what would undoubtly become a war zone, or more accurately a genocide, but of all the things on this planet, Jack was the one she refused to leave behind. From their earlier conversations it was clear enough that June harbored some small amount of animosity towards the Autobots. And if they managed to get her safely off this planet without her son, the most civil thing she would do is ask to be left off at the nearest neutral zone. And that was only  _ if _ they got off this rock. Which they couldn’t because their anti-gravational proplu- 

But the  _ Nemesis _ was broadcasting its location. One of the largest Decepticon spaceships that was undoubtedly packed with spare parts. Parts that he could successfully steal while the troops were busy terrorizing the local population. Risky, but well worth it if it meant getting out into space. 

And he could pick up Jack along the way. And if the spit-fire femme, Miko, was with him, he’d be sure to pick up his newfound wrecking buddy. The girl was always chatting about how she wanted to go to space. And if that quiet nerd completed the trio he had no complaints. He could use another nerd to bounce engineering ideas off of.

So it was decided. They’d go in. He’d do the sneaking around, find the parts he needed, find the kids, shuttle everyone away while the con’s were distracted with a giant  _ boom _ , and once the ship was in shape, they’d say good-bye to this spacerock.

Of course, Wheeljack’s luck hadn’t been up to snuff lately. Then again, he never really believed in luck anyway. 


	16. Of angels

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ “Kindness is what defines us. Decency for all is the hallmark of our achievements. Tolerance tempered with fortitude is what makes us strong. We are the victors of the universe not because our forefathers demanded it to be so, but because we determined that to be right. We  _ are  _ the conquerors.” _

_ \- Victory Speech to the Universe _ given by Solistus Minor, Fourth Successor to the Merited Throne

**Chapter 16: Of angels**

Jack’s arm was asleep. It was past the point of pins and needles, but still he refused to move it. There was a good reason, he reasoned as he stared with half-lidded eyes at the mess of brown hair in front of his face. Raf was asleep and that was more important than his arm.

The poor kid kept waking up from nightmares. They all did, but it seemed like Raf had it worst. His whole body would tremble and he would break out in sweats, just before his muttering would reach a climax. Then he would jerk and scream, scaring the other two out of their own restless sleep. Miko would scream next. But it would always cut off abruptly as she would jump off the bed and run to the bathroom, leaving Jack to calm down t he hyperventilating boy. Miko would try to be quiet, but Jack always kept an ear out for her. Eventually after her episode was over she would wander back to the bed with empty eyes. And she would just sit there, staring at nothing until she would be so exhausted that she would fall onto the bed. It was then that Jack would gently pull her closer, being very careful not to wake her. 

It wasn’t for her sake that he did this, he realized after the fifth time of fruitlessly trying to pull the tangled covers over her. He just couldn’t stand the thought of them being anywhere beyond his reach right now. The thought of not being able to touch his friends-  _ his family _ \- made him physically ill. So he would try to hold their hand or cradle their head while he waited fruitlessly for sleep to claim him. Being an only child, he had never shared a bed with anyone. He was uncomfortable, despite the luxuries surrounding them, but he suspected that had more to do with his mental state than anything else.

He lost track of the number of times he had to push his own panic away. He couldn’t break down in front of these two, he just couldn’t. Jack went as far as he dared when he and Miko first saw Raf. That was cathartic, but he knew if he cried anymore he would have a hard time being the support the other two desperately needed. Still, that sore lump in his throat wouldn’t go away. He didn’t understand how he could still be hurting this badly. 

It had to be around noon, judging by the sunlight. So that meant roughly forty hours since this nightmare began. Forty hours for them to be captured, traded, and for the Autobots to die. For Megatron to use the Omega Lock on Earth and destroy their home. And for Megatron to retaliate against the United States by using their own weapons against them, causing widespread damage. 

Jack wouldn’t admit to being afraid of the dark, but after the sun set and Raf woke up with one of his episodes, he panicked. He couldn’t see anything and Raf’s cries of terror brought to his memory a certain yellow muscle car’s screams as Megatron ruthlessly dug his claws into the 'bot. It was several agonizing minutes of feeling helpless and drowning in despair before he heard a click from the door opening. A soft glow of a candle traveled from the living area into the bedroom. Before this nightmare, Jack couldn’t claim to believe in angels, but right then and there, bathed in the golden glow which reflected off her hair, he believed wholeheartedly that Carly was one.

She had cooed softly as she had seen the mess of children and had hurriedly placed the candle on the nightstand. First, she reached for Miko who was trembling violently and gently embraced her. Whispering condolences, though she had no idea why she needed to, Carly eventually got Miko to calm down enough that she came to her senses. Miko had then silently pushed off the bed and tottered to the bathroom. It was only then the angel was able to help a flustered Jack who was trying to control a thrashing Raf. Carly was a miracle worker. In sweet, gentle tones, she would whisper, “ _ Seguro. Seguro. _ ” Once she said it enough times, it sank in and Raf blankly blinked at her. He whispered back something Jack didn’t understand, and by the look on Carly’s face, she didn’t either. Bringing a hand to cup Raf’s cheek, she again said the same words, attaching his name at the end. That earned her a big sniffle and something that hurt Jack deeply.

“ _ Mamá? _ ”

Carly dropped her jaw. Jack sensed she was about to deny it, but he moved to grasp her wrist. Startled, she looked to him, and he pleaded with his silent eyes that she would play along. Clicking her teeth together, she looked as if she was about to rebel. Rafael began talking then.

“Mamá, ¿dónde están Gabriala y Antonio? ¿Y José y Fernando y Carmen? ¿Ellos también son seguros?”

As the names were spouted off one after the other, Carly’s face fell further. She again looked to Jack and he opened his mouth to confirm her question. Nothing came out though. He found he couldn’t speak, but the tears sliding down his cheeks were enough for her.

“Rafael,” she started and Jack was sorely afraid that she would tell him the truth. His heart thudded in his chest and he unconsciously tightened his hold on his… brother. But Carly changed her mind at the last second and said, “Seguros. V-ve a dormir. Dormir.”

Raf nodded his head blankly, gripped the sheets tightly for a moment, then relaxed back into the pillows. Jack and Carly both anxiously, silently waited and watched as Raf's chest began its slow and steady rhythm. Only when Jack was sure he could move without disturbing his little brother, did he slowly slide out of bed. On shaky limbs he stood, and Carly rose to help him.

"I'm… fine," he muttered hoarsely. All that earned him was a frown.

"No, you're not," Carly berated in just above a whisper as she examined his rumpled state critically. With a sigh, though, she brought one hand to cup his cheek and he almost flinched. And with a softened gaze and a compassionate smile, she continued, "But you will be. You  _ are _ safe here. All of you."

Jack could only shift uncomfortably. That really wasn't true, but Carly couldn't know that. How could she know that Earth was doomed unless Megatron, an alien warlord, was stopped? As quiet as this hotel room was, it was far from peaceful. Or safe.

Miko's haggard reappearance shifted Jack's thoughts, and he moved past the woman without acknowledging her assurances. Miko stood there awkwardly in the doorway, rubbing her hands against her arms. Jack didn't hesitate to hug her, cradling her head with his hand and pushing her into his chest. Miko didn't protest in the slightest though Jack knew he stank of sweat.

A polite cough made Jack turn his head, but he refused to let go of Miko. He didn't care how improper it looked with two teenagers in a rather intimate embrace. Jack could only think of Miko as his sister now. His crazy, rambunctious  _ younger _ sister. Someone he had to take care of. And right now, she needed a hug.

Carly was standing there with a tight, worried frown. "You should try to go back to sleep. I'll be sure to leave the candle here for you. It should last several more hours."

“Thanks,” he muttered as he refocused his attention back to Miko. She had wrapped her own arms around his waist and was leaning against him heavily. “We’ll…” he paused. He knew that sleep was beyond him now but he couldn’t bring himself to pile more worry onto the woman. “We’ll get to sleep. You should go. ...Thank you.”

Carly hovered there, anxiously looking between Jack and Miko with a frown. Thankfully, she nodded her head and moved away. “Alright. But if you need anything, I’m right next door.” Then, she left as quietly as she came.

Jack still held Miko in his arms, but his hands had begun rubbing small circles on her back when he felt her shudder. She didn't respond for almost a minute, but then she moved to brace her arms against his chest and gave herself some space with a gentle push. Jack obliged and took a half-step back. He scanned her up and down in the dim candle light but nothing seemed physically amiss. Her borrowed clothing was too large and rumpled and her hair was hanging loosely in a tangled mess. He couldn’t see the bruises on her bandaged hands, but he suspected they still ached like his did. She refused to meet his eyes and he suspected he would see the same dark circles around them like Raf’s, but filled with the same pain, awareness, and empty longing as his own.

She breathed deeply and let it out shakily. “I-” Miko cut herself off and Jack waited patiently for her to continue.

When she didn’t he sighed and said, “It’s- You should come back to bed. You need to sleep.”

Miko jerked at that and her hair whipped furiously at her denial. She sucked in a breath at the same time she took a hesitant step back while crossing her arms in refusal.

“Miko,” Jack warned desperately, “You need to sleep. I- I know it’s hard. I- I’m having trouble too, but- but we need to be… ready.”

“Ready for what?” she asked as she smacked his hand away. This time she made eye contact and the pure anger there made Jack almost hesitate. “Be ready for His Royal Pain in the Arse to come back and finish the job? What are we  _ doing _ here, Jack?”

That made him pause. What  _ were  _ they doing in a Decepticon controlled hotel in the middle of Chicago? Chicago was the city Carly mentioned, right? But what was the point of keeping them here? They were Megatron’s enemies, though they honestly couldn’t do much. Not without the Autobots.

“I don’t know,” Jack eventually admitted. He impulsively grasped Miko’s shoulders and promised, “But we  _ are _ going to leave. We’re going- we’re going to find someplace safe. Someplace Megatron can’t get to.”

“If there is such a place,” Miko morosely countered as she bowed her head. The fight was leaving her again and she couldn’t hold back her yawn.

“There will be. There has to be. Earth isn’t finished yet.” Jack wasn’t sure where this conviction came from, but he held onto it with everything he had. Maybe Carly’s innocent optimism was rubbing off on him, but he just couldn’t admit defeat. There had to be a way to get through this.

“Come on,” he urged, tugging Miko forward. This time she didn’t balk as her eyes fluttered and another yawn escaped her. “You need to sleep. And don’t worry. I’m right here with you.”

After he had tucked Miko right next to the silent Raf, Jack crawled into bed. He couldn’t sleep though. His thoughts were buzzing too much. He had to find a way to take Miko and Raf out of here, but where would they go? Could he contact Agent Fowler somehow? Since the world knew of the aliens’ existence, NEST had to be on high alert. Would Jack even manage to find them? They were a secret government organization, but still, Fowler had to report to somebody. Jack furrowed his brows in concentration. He knew Fowler once mentioned a meeting he had with a general. Arcee had commented on Prime’s absence and how Fowler needed ‘backup’ with his report. But what was the general’s name?

He fell asleep before he could remember, and when he next woke up all thoughts had disappeared under his worry for his panicking siblings. It was a long, long night for Jack. When the sun started to light the rooms, he didn’t bother moving out of bed because they were all still so exhausted.

The door clicked open and Jack was pulled out of his haze. With a soft groan he begrudgingly pulled his arm out from under Raf. The boy stirred but thankfully went back into a peaceful slumber. Good, he needed one. Jack hissed as he tried to get feeling back into his arm, but looked up when Carly entered the room. With a frown he moved his sights from the kind woman to the accomplice walking right behind her. He wanted to snap at the doctor to go away but settled for glaring at the man.

“How are you feeling?” Carly asked in a hushed voice.

Jack looked down. He couldn’t look at that innocent, caring face. Eventually he shrugged one shoulder. There wasn’t a word he could think of that could explain his condition. His body was recovering swiftly, though he could feel the beginning of a cold creeping up the back of his throat. His bruises on his knuckles still hurt, but they weren’t bad. And his constant headache had finally retreated, although he felt like it could come back at any moment. It was only through sheer stubbornness that he kept it at bay, because almost every thought would make him sick. Even the lazy, boring thoughts, like guessing what he would eat next, would send him right back into a sinking depression.

Suddenly he felt the urge to ask Carly something that had been bothering him for a while. Just before asking he gave the silent doctor a hard stare. “OK, I guess. For what we’ve been through. But, Carly… do you know what’s going on?”

The wiry, grey doctor visibly flinched, unbeknownst to the woman. In contrast, Carly managed to look even more compassionate. Carefully, she sat on the edge of the bed and laid a hand comfortingly on Jack’s leg, which was half pinned by an unconscious Miko. Jack shot a suspicious eye to the hand before jerking to look at her when she began.

“Dylan did tell me some things about you. That you three were caught up in some messy business and an associate of his asked him to take care of you.” A disgustingly dreamy look crossed her face, and she added wistfully, “Isn’t he such a gentleman? He’s got his hands so full as it is, right now. Oh! Not to say that you’re a burden! That’s far from the truth. It’s just that he was willing to drop everything and go help his friend when asked, even when he was struggling to help keep things together here after that presidential announcement and then with all the power suddenly going out.” 

Jack was really feeling sick now. He opened his mouth and even twitched his lips in an effort to speak but couldn’t find anything to say to that. Suddenly the weight on his leg moved as Miko propped herself up and vehemently spat.

“He’s a liar!”

Carly whipped her head around in surprise, but then narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” she asked in a low, defensive tone.

“Exactly what I said. Mr. Hotshot ain’t so hot when he’s selling out humanity.”

Jack let out a grateful breath. He honestly couldn’t have said it any better than Miko, and he really didn’t have the energy to break the truth carefully. So, he let the girl seeth to her heart's content.

Carly must have been really offended though, because she sprung off the couch and snapped, “Excuse me, young lady but-”

“Pardon me, but I really do need to check on their health,” the doctor butted in. His voice was cool, but his wide eyes gave away his panic. Jack had been unobtrusively watching him as the two spat at each other. The doctor had retained his cool demeanor until Miko’s third sentence, but at that point he broke out into a cold sweat. Nervously his eyes darted between the two children, now, as he pushed himself forward. 

Jack stiffened for a moment when the doctor stepped right up to him. The old man then looked as if he just remembered something and addressed Carly, “Excuse me, ma’am, but I’ll need to ask you to leave. I’m sure they don’t want an audience.”

Carly was snapped out of her glaring contest with Miko and looked suitably embarrassed. “Uh, right. I’ll just… be in the next room if you need anything.” 

Once she disappeared, the doctor settled his cold, grey eyes on first Miko then Jack. In a low tone he warned, “It would be appreciable if you said nothing about what has happened to the miss. My employer made it very clear that she is to be as far removed from the trouble as possible, and I can’t allow you to jeopardize that.”

“Why?” Jack asked the obvious question in the same low voice.

The man shrugged as he motioned with his hand for Jack to stand up. “I don’t know,” he said stiffly. “But Mr. Gould doesn’t pay me- ah, hasn’t put me down as a survivor for asking questions beyond my profession. You would do well to do the same.”

“You think so?” Miko asked in that tone of voice that Jack just  _ knew  _ she was about to sass somebody in authority. “Well,  _ I’m _ not on his payroll, so I don’t have to listen to you.”

To his credit, the doctor didn’t even blink. “Shirt, off,” he commanded when he realized that Jack just stood there.

In response, Jack just crossed his arms and shot the man-  _ another traitor _ \- a glare. “Tell me why you’re following…. Listening to… gah- why do you even obey him? Don’t you know what’s going on?” Jack gave up on trying to look intimidating and waved his arms in desperation. When he finally did look back at the man, his eyes widened in surprise.

No longer was there a proud professional, but a wizened old man who was visibly shaking. His thin lips moved as if trying to speak. He teetered as if his legs were giving out, and indeed, his blood had drained out of his face making it look pale and sickly. Out of instinct Jack reached forward and guided the elderly man to the edge of the bed. The man latched onto Jack’s arms in a startlingly strong grip and breathed deeply. 

Refusing to look up, he asked the young man almost desperately in a voice that was a different sort of quiet, “Why do you insist on fighting Mr. Gould? Did you not se-see those- those _things?_ _Metal giants_ ,” he breathed, “Titans that can crush us all without a second thought! And Mr. Gould is _negotiating_ with them on humanity’s behalf. I-” The doctor finally looked up and Jack flinched at the depth of emotions that were in those pale grey eyes. Chieftest of them was fear. Complete and utter fear that caused the whole man’s body to shake.

“I’m an old man, you see,” he whispered. “I know I don’t have many years left to live. But my family… my children. And grandchildren! ...Never, in all my years, had I imagined the demise of humanity to come like this. And I have lived through a great many terrors of which you only read in your history books. So you ask me how I can obey Mr. Gould?” His voice was growing stronger and his grip was bordering on painful. Jack wanted to back away from the sudden intensity coming from the doctor. Desperately he looked up to Miko, silently asking for her help. The doctor followed his line of sight, pinning Miko with a fierce stare as he continued his scathing monologue.

“How could I not?” He dared to raise his voice, though it came out harsh and crusted with age. “I know I don’t have much time left to live, but my grandchildren…. Mr. Gould has assured me that if his agents can reach them in time, my family will be safe. They will be protected from those metal titans.” He glared at Miko, who for once was silent and staring at nothing in a sort of closed-off horror. “So don’t you understand? You and Mr. Gould are the only things standing between those aliens and the utter demise of humans. So  _ don’t  _ cause any trouble for him,” he finally snapped.

Silence reigned in the minutes that slowly, achingly ticked by. Jack was pinned by his own indecisiveness. He wanted to spring away from the man and do nothing but take a long hot shower to drown away the sorrow and helplessness he felt when staring into those terrified eyes. But he also wanted to grip the man so hard and shake him until all his frustrations were released. To explain to him in detail the horrors that Megatron would bring-  _ had brought already _ \- and that Gould was only doing this for himself. But every argument he conceived only seemed to justify the old man’s choice. 

The Autobots were dead. The one force capable of stopping Megatron was dead. So who else was Jack supposed to rely on?

It was Raf who broke the tense stalemate between the three. A sudden shifting of the blankets and the preemptive mutterings snapped Jack’s focus to the boy. Immediately he pulled himself away from the doctor and crawled back onto the bed.

Shaking the boy’s arm gently, but firmly, Jack called, “Raf! Raf, it’s time to wake up. The doctor’s here.”

There was a jerk and a hiccup and Raf had suddenly sprung into Jack’s waiting arms. Used to this already, Jack automatically rubbed his little brother’s back and quietly shushed him. 

“It’s OK. I swear it’s OK, Raf. There’s nothing to fear here. It’s just a check up.”

Shy brown eyes peeked out from behind the mess of hair and Jack tried to smile encouragingly to him. He could feel that it was strained, but it must have been good enough for Raf because he gave Jack a tight squeeze then let go. Sitting up on his own, Raf looked around. Well, tried to. In a familiar habit, Raf brought his fingers to his nose and attempted to push up his non-existent glasses. His face scrunched in confusion and he began patting his pockets. Jack felt something lift in his chest at witnessing the familiar action.

“They’re right here, Raf. You shouldn’t fall asleep with them on.” Miko shoved the glasses into Raf’s hands then slid off the bed before he could thank her. “I’ll be in the other room,” she called over her shoulder stiffly.

While Raf cleaned his glasses, Jack returned his focus back to the doctor who had spread a few items from his bag onto the bed. “So what’s first,” he asked as he eyed the thermometer and blood pressure monitor. Jack was still angry at the doctor, but wasn’t stupid enough to refuse the medical attention they needed. In all honesty, he wanted an expert’s advice on Raf’s condition.

“First, is.. Is it Raf? You need to come sit in this chair, so I can take your blood pressure.”

Raf looked a little startled at being called out, but with a pat on the arm by Jack he willingly pulled himself out of the covers and plodded to the chair. An awkward silence reigned as Raf submitted himself to the examination. His blood pressure was fine, and his physical reactions were normal. But when the doctor moved to check the bandages around Raf’s hands, Raf just stared at them for the longest time.

“Raf?” Jack asked quietly, with too much trepidation. Some nasty feeling in his gut told him that this brief interlude was about to shatter.

Raf’s fingers twitched and robotically he picked at the stiff bandages. Rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, he continued to stare with a tight frown. When he dug into a seam and poked, he flinched. Jack flinched too. From experience he knew that was a sharp bite of pain. Raf’s frown stretched wider and he poked himself again. And again. His breaths were coming a little faster and Jack felt that sickness fill his empty stomach again.

“Raf!” Jack didn’t think twice before kneeling next to the chair and snatching both wrists in his hands.

Rafael snapped his wide-eyed stare to him. It couldn’t really be called words, just puffs of air, but still he tried stuttering, “Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-wh…”

“Raf. Raf! It’s OK! You’re OK. Just breath. You can do that. Just breath.”

“Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-  _ why? _ ”

Jack couldn’t keep eye contact. He just couldn’t. Which is why he missed Raf’s pupils dilate to tiny pinpricks in consternation, then blow wide open in hurt and fear. 

“Bee.”

He couldn’t stop himself; He flinched. Raf’s reaction was immediate. He tore his tiny hands out of Jack’s and pressed them against his head, skewing his glasses and adding to the ruffle of hair. His eyes were wide open as he focused in and out on nothing.

“Raf. Raf! I’m right here Raf. Don’t- don’t go away Raf. It’s gonna- I can’t- Raf! Don’t…”

Jack’s throat tightened painfully as he lost what he was trying to say. Which wasn’t much, to be honest. What could he tell Rafael?  _ It’s going to be OK? _ That line had been spouting from his lips all night long and he was sick of it. But he didn’t-  _ couldn’t _ lose Raf. They almost just got him back. It was just a few minutes, but it was enough to make his sudden departure feel cold and heartless.

“RAF!”

His earlier panicked expressions had brought both Miko and Carly back into the room out of concern and curiosity. But with this last wail, a heavy hand came on his shoulder. He looked sharply at it and followed it up to Miko’s heartbroken face.

“Raf…” He said softly, half in apology. Miko’s figure was blurry. Why was she blurry? Why was his face so hot?

“I know,” Miko spoke back just as softly. There was not a hint of blame or anger in her voice. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug and Jack could only slump in defeat. “Raf was back, even if just for a little bit. But that means he can still come back, right? He just… he just needs some time.”

Jack was silent for a moment, before he choked out, “Miko…” 

Holy hell. How could she be so optimistic? She had to have been blessed by some divine being to have the capacity to see anything positive in this situation. Regardless, her words were just what he needed. Tightly, he gripped her back.

“Doctor Jamenson, do you know what’s wrong with him?” That was Carly. Honestly, how could one woman sound so caring when she didn’t have a clue of what was going on?

The doctor gave a deep sigh, “The short answer is trauma. I’m not an expert on mental disorders, I’m a physician.” Jack and Miko both couldn’t stop their scowls from being aimed at the man. Raf didn’t have any mental disorder. He was just… hurt. But Doctor Jamenson continued as if he didn’t see them. “But if I had to make an educated guess, it’s a coping mechanism. He’s unable to face whatever has happened so while he checks out mentally, his body essentially becomes like a puppet's.” The doctor demonstrated by lifting Raf’s limp arm and moving it gently in whatever direction he wanted with no resistance. It was disconcerting to watch.

Carly gave all three of them pitying looks. She acted as if she wanted to say something comforting, but a glare from Miko prevented her. Jack got up off the ground, which broke Miko’s one-way staring contest as she moved out of his way. 

Gently, Jack put a hand on Raf’s head and brushed his hair a little. After a quiet minute he asked, “So… what do we do? How do we help him?”

Jamenson just shrugged. “I’ll have to ask some colleagues. But my current suggestion is to have him start moving around. Once he gains control of his body, he’ll have to be more aware of his surroundings.”

“OK.”

Jack didn’t know how they were going to do that, but it was at least a start.

“For now, I’ll take the bandages off. You all should be fine without them now.”

Jack moved away to let the doctor finish his work. At some point Miko and Carly had left the room, so when Jack moved Raf from the chair to the bed, he was next in line for the doctor’s examination. It was a blur to him. Doctor Jamenson still rattled off his blood pressure numbers, which were fine, and checked his temperature, which was only slightly elevated. After the bandages were taken off, Jack found that a small bottle of pills were shoved into his hand.

“Normally I wouldn’t trust giving pills to a youth without an adult’s consent, but your knuckles are extremely battered,” the doctor began in a stern lecture, “I trust that you’ll be responsible with them?”

Jack looked down at the bottle and squinted. When the medical jargon came into focus, he rose his eyebrows and gave the doctor an incredulous look. “This is just meloxicam. I mean, it’s more powerful than ibuprofen that you can normally get at the store, but it’s not like it’s hydrocodone.”

Doctor Jamenson rose his own grey eyebrows in response. “You know your medicines,” he commented with the slightest hint of approval in his voice.

Jack ducked his head and squeezed the bottle tightly. “My mom’s a nurse. Was… I- I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that Jack didn't want to hear. Jack didn't want to think about his mother. Jack didn't want to think about how long it was since he heard her familiar goodbye or saw her tired yawn as she waved. Jack didn’t want to think about how he would never hear her voice again.

Jack didn’t want to think about his mother and feel that pain all over again. 

The doctor nodded his head in approval. “She taught you to be responsible then. That’s good.” He dug in his bag for a moment then pulled out two more bottles and handed it to Jack. “Here’s two more, for the other two. I hesitated in wanting to give them any, but I trust that if there’s any issues you’ll be able to administer these with care?”

Jack blinked, but gratefully took the bottles. He was hesitant to give any to Raf, but they might be OK for Miko. She had been far more aggressive in her attempts in breaking out of the glass prisons than he was. Her bruises would probably last two and a half weeks.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be careful.”

With his check-up finished, Jack pocketed the pills then carefully prodded Raf. He still didn’t look well. The boy was sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs hanging over and his hands in his lap. When Jack prodded his shoulder again, Raf fluttered his eyes and looked up.

“Come on, Raf. Let’s… walk you to the other room.”

The latino boy stared at Jack’s face for longer than he should. His eyes then moved down to the outstretched hand. He tilted his head as if the appendage was foregin to him, then some sense seemed to dawn on him and faster than Jack expected his hand was latched on to and Raf hopped off the bed. Jack tried not to let his nervousness show in his trembling hand by squeezing tightly as he led Raf into the living area.

Though the room was brightly lit, with the curtains pulled back to allow as much sunshine through, the atmosphere was frosty. Miko was sitting on the couch with her back against the armrest, facing the giant window with her arms crossed. She looked like she was lost in her own world, with her brows furrowed and her eyes staring blankly ahead. Carly was in the kitchenette sitting at a stool looking positively bored. She would glance at Miko, purse her lips, then glare down at the tableware sitting innocently on the countertop. Jack wasn’t entirely sure what had happened during their examination, but it seemed that Miko’s earlier-  _ truthful-  _ comments hadn’t yet been forgiven.

When Raf was noticed, though, everything seemed to flip. It was Carly who saw them first. She sat up straight with a smile and asked, as if this was just an everyday occurance, “So how did it go?”

“Raf!” Miko shouted as soon as her head snapped to the two boys. She scrambled from her place on the couch and crossed the few steps to their youngest friend-  _ brother _ . Raf jerked his head at the sudden sound, but when Miko filled his vision some clarity crossed his face and he gave her a shy smile. Jack dropped his hand so Miko could give him a proper hug. 

Turning his attention to the British woman, Jack shrugged and answered, “Good. Clean bill of health. ...For the most part.” He added that with a pointed look to the poor kid being assaulted in a friendly way by Miko’s enthusiasm.

Carly just nodded her head in understanding. Again, she plastered on a smile and said, “Well, that’s great! I’ve got some food here, and I’m sure you’re starving, so why don’t you come over and eat?”

“Don’t do it! It’s probably poisoned or something,” Miko whispered in a not-too-quiet voice as she looped her arms protectively around Raf.

A fed-up sigh came from the other side of the room, and Jack almost cringed seeing the peeved-looking Carly. She was standing with her arms crossed, and she did something so childish that it almost made Jack laugh. She rolled her eyes and waved a hand with a dramatic flare and pensively stated, “I can hear you, you know! And I honestly don’t understand why you think the food is poisoned.”

So that was why the atmosphere was so chilly.

Jack did cringe and shot Miko a look. The transfer student didn’t seem the slightest bit apologetic, and instead opened her mouth. Jack didn’t let her have the chance to throw fuel on the fire and spoke over her, “Miko’s just paranoid. Anyway,  _ you _ need to go do your check up.”

The mouth that had closed at his answer suddenly sprang back open and Miko glared daggers at him. “What!? No! I don’t wanna be in a room with doctor creep!”

“ _ His name _ is Doctor Jamenson, and you  _ will  _ be respectful to him,” Carly cut in with a cold, unyielding tone.

It might have worked on anyone else, but not for the hotheaded, pink-streaked teeneager. Miko just gave her messy hair a flip. “I’m not gonna, and you can’t make me!”

“Miko!” Jack hissed.

“What? You’re not my mom!”

Her words hurt. 

Just like a punch to the gut, they sent Jack reeling. He took a stumbling step back and shivered as the weight of his newfound responsibilities crashed over him. The loss of his own mother came back in sharp, pinpoint focus, and he sucked in a steadying breath. As soon as his eyes snapped open he glared at Miko and said in a trembling voice, “That was uncalled for.”

Miko wavered for a moment, looking torn between abashed and angry. Anger won out, though, and her brown eyes glittered. Puffing herself up, she replied, “Well, it’s true! My real mom’s back in Japan. She’s probably crying her eyes out right now.”

Jack stiffened. How could he forget? Miko was an exchange student. Her family lived in Tokyo, far from the perils of Jasper, Nevada. She had a family she could go back to. For some reason that filled Jack with bitterness. Miko had a place she could call home. Miko would be fine without him.

“Lucky you!” he snapped. “Why don’t you go back to Japan and forget about us already? You’ll be safer that way.”

Jack knew those words were a mistake even as they were leaving his mouth. Miko’s reaction was similar to his, where she looked like she had just been physically slapped. He hurt her, deeply. He felt awful having said that and sincerely wished he could take it back. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Miko turned on him.

Unconsciously she tightened her hold on Raf as she screamed, “I  _ can’t!  _ In case you haven’t noticed we’re stuck here at  _ Hotel Decepticon _ without any phones or way to reach anybody. Not even ‘Bot-sitting Fowler! So you tell me what I’m supposed to do!?”

That got his ire up. Jack thought he was a fairly level headed person. Only a few people could make him angry, and only a few select situations could make him lose his temper. Miko was one of the few that constantly pushed the wrong buttons on everybody. And Miko’s stubbornness was one of the things he felt created more problems for him in the past several months than even Vince and his bullying.

“I just  _ did!”  _ Jack fired back, throwing his hands wide and in the air in a gesture that could be interpreted as ‘come-at-me’ or ‘I-give-up’. He was about to go on a full-on rant, completely ignoring Carly’s rushed footsteps behind him, or the shadow hovering in the bedroom doorway, when a high, piercing cry startled everyone.

Miko was thrown off balance when Raf gripped her arms and tore them off his shoulders, only for him to dive to his knees. Squeezing his hands over his ears, Raf let loose another bloodcurdling wail that ended in hiccups.

Both Jack and Miko were so stunned that they were frozen in place. Miko looked like the standing version of a murdered silhouette, with one foot off the ground and her hands stuck halfway through pinwheeling. It was impressive that she could hold the pose completely still. Jack looked no better, as his ‘come-at-me’ had morphed in the typical after effect of throwing out such a threat unthinkingly. His arms had lowered, and he hunched over with a pain-pinched face as he tried taking in the inhuman sounds coming from the floor. 

Carly’s steps faltered, but they redoubled, and soon she was kneeling next to the screaming child. With no hesitation she pulled him into her chest and hugged him tightly. Raf put up little resistance and continued to wail as wet tears and snot covered her boutique clothing. Carly didn’t seem to care at all, and instead focused solely on soothing the child in her arms.

The other two children came out of their shell-shocked states as the minutes passed, but neither moved to comfort Raf. Instead they stood there, alone and distanced, shuffling their feet and rubbing their arms in awkward silence. Miko had turned her head away when fat tears appeared in her eyes, and Jack stared sullenly at the floor beneath him. 

A horrible, tight knot formed in his throat, and he knew what he needed to do to make it go away, but the words just wouldn’t come. No matter what he did, a persistent ache mixed with devastated longing kept rising up into a cloud of bitterness and resentment. Even enmity. Jack just couldn’t help but feel that this was all somehow his fault. If he hadn’t attempted to walk the higher road, to follow Optimus’s example, to think that he had no right to end the eons long war himself down there in that deep, dark pit, life would be so very different right now. Maybe the Autobots would have returned to a living Cybertron by now. The Autobots would still be alive.

His mother would still be alive.

Raf’s family would still be alive.

But Miko’s family  _ was _ still alive.

It hurt Jack to think that they would be separated after all they had been through, but it was only right. Miko could have a life. He had no right to keep her with them. Miko would be safer, as Jack had to admit he seemed to be a danger magnet; A magnet that was only amplified by the exchange student’s antics. But still, Miko would be safer if she had nothing to do with an alien war.

“Well,” Caly broke the stiff silence with her ever light demeanor, “Are you two going to apologize to each other?”

The two aggressors looked at her, then at the same time glanced at each other. When they saw the other staring back, they flinched at the same time and immediately looked to the ground. Carly saw all this while somehow still keeping her focus on the traumatized child. She gave a deep sigh as she slowly rubbed Raf’s back.

“Look. I know you all are close. And something terrible has happened to you, but instead of letting that drive you apart, you need to learn to come together. And the sooner you do, the easier it will be.”

It felt like something had lodged in Jack’s throat and no matter how much he tried to swallow, it stayed there. He brought one hand to rub it, hoping that would help. A bit awkwardly he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck as he straightened. Carly was right. They needed to stick together, at least for a little while longer.

“Miko, I-” He balked. Gritting his teeth, he changed his words, “I just want you to be safe. I… need to know that you’re OK, so could you- would you please do a check-up? It will help me a lot to know… that.”

He watched her crumple under his quiet words, but at last, assent. She was still clearly hurting by the way her arms were folded and the way she still refused to look at him, but Miko did nod her head. As she took a deep breath before she straightened her shoulders and turned to the bedroom.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “I can do that.”

And Jack knew that was as close to an apology as she was going to give. And he was fine with that. He could feel some of the overwhelming stress disappear in some small way into the bedroom.

“So…”

Jack blinked and looked at the woman still kneeling on the ground. Carly was giving him an inscrutable expression. He frowned at that. He felt as if he was being judge on a test and he had somehow failed. But for as long as she stared at him, she stopped just as quickly.

With a sigh, she lifted Raf off and held him under the armpits. Reviewing his state with a critical eye, she nodded to herself and asked, “Better?”

She didn’t receive an answer, but that didn’t bother her. “Come on, you need to stand up. And you need to eat something.” 

Her orders weren’t just directed at Raf, and so Jack followed obediently behind. He pulled out a stool for Raf, and felt his heart jump when the boy gave him a small, but genuine smile for the help.

“Come on. Eat up. It’s not poisoned, I swear.”

He knew Carly was just trying to lighten the mood, but Jack couldn’t help but cringe. Why did Miko have to be so stubborn? Gratefully he accepted the food, which apparently was more chicken noodle soup.

He hadn’t even eaten one spoonful before Carly was already speaking. She had her own bowl, but was lazily stirring it.

“I… may be able to help your friend.”

“Sister,” Jack corrected. It wasn’t technically true by any law but Jack was going to insist on it to his dying day… which may not be that far off.

Carly took it in stride. “Alright, sister. She says she has family in Japan? Well, it’s true that most of Chicago is out of power and nothing can connect, but Dylan  _ does _ have a setup that’s working. Something about being prepared for anything including EMP attacks. So he’s got a phone, laptop, and whatever else he needs for work. He’s using it so much that he won’t let me check my accounts, but I think I can convince him to let you use it to call some people if you really do need the help.”

Jack had a flurry of emotions with that information. They had access to communication! His elation was quickly cut off when he realized where the likely source of the working technology came from. Jack wasn’t entirely sure if Soundwave would really monitor the Decepticon sympathizer’s email, but he wouldn’t put it past the spymaster either. And he doubted he could just call up the Pentagon, even if Dylan or a Decepticon wasn’t listening. And he had literally no one else to call for help. It only drove home how alone he truly was now.

But Miko… She did have a point. Her parents were very much alive, and if she had the chance to talk to them, to explain anything to them, she needed to take that chance, Decepticons be damned.

He nodded his head, “If you could, I would greatly appreciate that.”

Carly smiled and finally lifted the spoon to her mouth. “You’re very welcome.” A slurping sound made the both of them blink and turn to Raf who had now finished off his bowl. Carly chuckled, and Jack even gave the abashed boy a grin.

“As for this little guy,” Carly happily took the bowl and refilled it with the extra soup that came in a plastic container. “I think I have an idea of how to get him moving and so more aware of his surroundings, like Dr. Jamenson said.”

The look on Carly’s face reminded Jack of a certain pink-haired girl’s antics, but more toned down. Bravely he had to ask, “And that is?”

When she told him, Jack couldn’t help grinning too.


	17. And of devils

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the long wait. I keep reworking this chapter. It’s not gone as wanted, but there comes a point where I just need to move on. So look forward to future updates after this.  
> And stay safe and healthy out there~!

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_This next part is particularly difficult for me to write down because it shows the height of my foolishness. I can make any number of excuses; that I was distressed, I wasn’t thinking clearly, that I had a vain hope that things would somehow magically change for the better because we decided to take matters into ~~o~~_ ~~ _ur own hands._~~ **_My hands._**

_ You know, just as well as I do now, that it was all for naught. But I didn’t know it then. How can you convince an emotionally heightened, terrified, teenager to not act rashly? If anyone has any suggestions, I’d love to hear it before my next unexpected, fun-filled trip through time. _

_ \-  _ Excerpt taken from _ Memoirs of Darby, Vol. 1 _

**Chapter 17: And of devils**

“This was a good idea,” Jack almost smiled when he looked across the table to Raf and Miko. They were oohing and ahhing over their own plates of food and Jack felt much more relaxed seeing that glimmer of life in Raf’s eyes.

“Well, I certainly enjoyed myself,” Carly replied with a chuckle before she picked up her fork and casually began eating the three-star food.

Jack only hesitated before he also followed suit. He never had anything like this before. A perfect piece of grilled salmon fillet was on each of their plates along with a side of greens, arranged to look like a piece of artwork. He almost felt bad about ruining the look, until he had a taste.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?” Carly asked with a knowing look, but then she sighed. “Of course, their Bavarian Cream is to die for, but unfortunately we can’t have that.”

“Why not?” Miko asked before taking a bite of her salad.

“Power outage, dear,” the British woman gestured with her fork at the myriad of candles that dotted the tables in the dining room. 

They were currently on the ground floor of the hotel, which apparently housed a rather famous three-star restaurant that Jack didn’t bother trying to pronounce. It was dinner time, and since they were already close to the restaurant Carly declared that they should eat here. After their check-ups it was decided that she would take them down to the pool. It was a change of scenery and a way to let them burn off all that restless energy, she had told Jack. Jack thought it was just something different for the bored woman. 

It worked though. Even though it required walking the entire thirty floors down, Miko was much more like herself, complaining with overly dramatic flare about how she just couldn’t walk another step. And Raf certainly seemed much more alert, though Jack did have to tug on his shoulder a few times to make sure he didn’t take a tumble when he spaced out. Once they reached the underground pool, though, the two immediately perked up. Carly and Miko hurried to change (Miko borrowing a swimsuit from the older woman, which was obviously too big and made the highschool girl scowl), while Jack struggled in tying a knot tight enough for Raf’s light sweatpants to not slip off. When the two were finally released into the empty pool, the underground cavern was filled with Miko’s shrieking taunts and a cacophony of splashes.

Jack had originally opted to stay on the side with his pant legs rolled up and just his feet in the water. But at one point, Miko had snuck silently under the water to grab his legs and pull him in. Jack would never admit he shrieked, but the bouncing echo hurt even his ears. It wasn’t fair though. It was a dark place, lit only by a few emergency lights that flickered near the entrances and some scattered candles that Carly had thoughtfully placed along the edges of the walls, far from any splash damage that might occur. Jack knew he was awake, and that the screams around him were ones of fun, not of fear, but still he would shiver in unease. And though he joined the others in their games, half his mind was preoccupied with what to do next. 

“The cooks are trying their best to preserve whatever food they can.” 

Jack was dragged back into the current conversation. He only partially paid attention to Carly’s explanation, and instead eyed the guards standing at the entrances. They had followed them all the way to the pool, and now to here. There were only four, but still, they posed a bigger problem than Jack liked. 

“But it’s pretty difficult to do that when there’s no electricity to run the stoves or other things like blenders. We are lucky, though, to have a restaurant that uses charcoal grills and wood-burning pizza ovens.”

Right. Lucky. Jack tried not to be bitter about the reason as to  _ why _ there was no electricity in the first place. Suddenly the food he was able to taste now turned to ash. Silently he forced himself to continue eating even though his appetite was slipping away, letting Carly and Miko carry on the conversation. The two got along surprisingly well, when they weren’t at each other’s throats.

When the plates were cleared and a pot of coffee sat before Carly, the mood abruptly shifted. After the waiter had moved away and Carly had poured them each a cup, she turned her piercing blue eyes onto Jack. Jack nearly choked on his first sip.

“So what is it that you’re hiding?” She asked with all the subtly of Bulkhead’s mace. 

“H-hiding?” Jack lowered his cup and his eyes.

Carly  _ ‘tch _ ’ed and he saw her hand grip her mug tightly. “No one is telling me a  _ single  _ thing about what’s going on. Everyone keeps dodging my questions or are silent little buggers.  _ You _ clearly know what’s going on, so,” She took a calculated sip and raked Jack and Miko with her eyes. Anger wasn’t quite accurate, but the woman was clearly upset. “Care to share?”

Jack was frozen. He didn’t know what he should say. Or could say. Out of habit, he checked Raf’s condition, but the boy seemed preoccupied with swirling his straw. Miko, on the other hand, was giving him an intense stare. Her lips were in a tight frown, but for once it seemed like she was waiting for his cue.

With a deep breath, he set down his cup and gripped his hands together. Biting his knuckles he debated how to start. Carly was surprisingly patient, but Miko was less so. Another glance to her told him she was at her wit’s end with his indecisiveness.

Just before she opened her mouth, he answered low and urgent, “We’re in danger.”

Carly quirked an eyebrow and protested, “I’ve told you before, you are safe here.”

Jack flinched away from her comforting hand. Shaking his head vigorously, he explained, “You don’t understand.  _ The world _ is in danger.”

“Explain.”

Jack wanted to weep. Carly was actually taking him seriously. There wasn’t any harsh judgement or suspended disbelief, just a cold willingness to hear them out. His next words were critical.

“All three of us are from Jasper, Nevada.”

Carly’s eyes widened a fraction. “The place that…”

“Yes,” Miko answered. 

“Then how are you-”

“We weren’t on Earth at the time.” Jack stated bluntly. Furiously he was pushing back the tidal wave of emotions, but still he could feel his face cracking.

“WHAT?” All three children flinched at the woman’s outburst. 

Jack glanced at the guards who now were frowning at them. Thinking quickly, Jack muttered out of the side of his mouth, “Miko! Laugh, act, now!”

Thank heaven’s she caught on so quickly. In a strain only he could hear, Miko stuck her tongue out and winked at Carly. “Tricked ya!” She sang out as she pushed her chair onto its back legs. Though her hands were behind her head, Jack could still see the strain in her arms as Miko held back her trembling. 

Carly sat there frozen for a long second, her eyes darting between the children and the guards. Then she huffed, sat back, and crossed her arms. When Jack felt that the guards were less interested in them, he picked up his cup, and before taking a gulp said, “It’s true, though. We were on another planet.”

Pursing her lips, Carly said, “You’ll forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”

“You don’t have to believe us.”

“Jack!”

“It’s OK, Miko. She doesn’t have to know our whole story. Just that Dylan is keeping quite a few secrets from her.”

“Well, I’ve known that already,” Carly huffed as she refilled her mug. It was Jack’s turn to give her a questioning stare. “What?” she asked indignantly. “I know the man. When he told me that there was an accident with a nuclear site on the East Coast and that you three were flown out just in time, I knew he was lying.”

“You… knew?”

“I may have a political science degree and work as a broker, but give me some credit. To know the price and quality of a purchase I have to have thorough knowledge of the item,  _ including _ it’s weaknesses. No plane would be flying the skies if there was an outage large enough to cripple Chicago and beyond. And no ground-based nuclear accident could cause such wide-spread damage. No, if there was something that could prevent Dylan from contacting his New York, Boston, and D.C. branches,  _ and _ still affect Chicago as badly as it did, it had to be a massive EMP attack from high in the atmosphere. Now I don’t know if another country was involved or not, but with this happening right after the President’s declaration of war against aliens makes it pretty clear to me.”

Jack and Miko just stared at the woman for several long minutes. A warm, stinging sensation filled Jack’s eyes and he sat back with a laugh. Covering his face with the back of his hand, he continued to laugh in that inch-from-the-edge insanity that he was feeling. Ignoring the stares of everyone in the room, he finally got himself under control.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out. Wiping his face away he admitted, “I’m sorry, I really should have given you more credit.”

Carly only gave him a wicked grin in response before bringing her cup to her lips.

“You’re right, I don’t believe it was an accident either,” Jack said with a strict frown. “Most likely it was the Decepticons.”

“Probably Soundwave,” Miko agreed.

“Excuse me, de-ce-pt-?”

“Decepticons,” Jack enunciated slowly, lowering his voice when another waiter bustled across the room.

“They are,” he paused thinking of an accurate description and grimaced when the doctor’s panicked words came back. “Giant... metal titans. Their leader, Megatron, is a ferocious warlord hellbent on conquering Earth.”

“Wait, hold up. You sound like you know the alien.”

Jack flinched. Undoubtedly he was the only human to have had a conversation with the tyrant three times now and still lived.

“There’s a reason why Nevada was cyberformed first,” he continued in a husky whisper. Tears stung his eyes again, but there was no humor in his voice. “The Autobot base was there.”

Carly stayed quiet this time, but fully expected further explanation.

“Our friends and guardians,” Miko took up the duty, but she whispered in a horribly broken voice. She was gripping her cup so tightly that it seemed her fingers would puncture the thick ceramic.

Carly was woefully patient, and stared at them in wide-eyed wonder. The silence dragged on as both the children struggled to maintain their dignity during this straight-from-hell story-time. It was unclear whether or not Raf was following the conversation, as he continued to stare into the mug and absent-mindedly stir his straw.

It took Jack several tries to find his voice again. “The- the Autobots a-and Decepticons are of the same species from the planet Cybertron. Civil war between the two political factions destroyed their home world.” 

Megatron’s fury-laced voice pounded in his mind: _Optimus sent the Allspark out to space…_ _killing his home!_ _I, myself, could not have devised a better plan to end all life on Cybertron than that,_ if _that was my goal._ Shaking his head to clear it of the haunting words, Jack continued in a dead voice.

“They left their home planet and so the war spread across the universe until it came to Earth. Before their planet died, though… certain powerful items called relics were sent to space, several of which landed on Earth. The Autobots came to find these relics, and so contacted the U.S. Government and made a peaceful pact. The Autobots were allowed to stay, provided a place to live in, and the ability to search globally for the relics, in exchange for complete anonymity, fend off Decepticon attacks, and sometimes help the military in joint missions.”

Miko pouted at his meager, somewhat inaccurate explanation, but Jack ignored her. He didn’t feel like he needed to explain everything. In fact, he was trying to get the story out as fast as possible.

“That’s… impossible,” Carly breathed. Jack just shrugged his shoulders at her disbelief. “ _ Everybody _ would know if there were giant metal beings just walking around! How did no one know about this?”

“Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that Cybertronians have the ability to transform into vehicles. It’s part of their anonymity they and the government wanted.”

“Transform…”

“Yup,” Miko said casually before she took a slurp of her coffee. “My guardian was an awesome off-roader, Optimus was a semi-truck, cranky-pants Doc was an ambulance, Bee and Smokescreen were sports cars, and Jack’s guardian was a motorcycle.”

Carly narrowed her eyes at the two before rubbing her forehead. “This is giving me a headache.”

Jack darkly chuckled, “I was stressed for a while after I first met the Autobots too.”

“So how  _ did _ a couple of kids get into the middle of government secrets and alien wars?”

Jack grimaced this time. His fault. It was  _ his fault _ . Picking up and setting the cup back down, Jack argued with himself. He couldn’t utter the words though.

“It was an accident.” Miko perkily said. “Some Decepticons goons were in our town, and when a fight ensued, we witnessed it. The next day we were taken to the Autobot secret base, which was actually only a few miles outside of Jasper, and put under their protective custody in case the Decepticons decided to come back.”

“Which they did?”

The room fell eerily silent. Miko hugged herself and looked away, while Jack’s knuckles turned white as he gripped his knees. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, and he bit his lip to keep more from spilling over.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Jack closed his eyes and tilted his head in a half-hearted attempt to say no, but even that was difficult to do with the overwhelming emotions welling up inside. It was like everything had shut down on him and he was stuck back in that cylinder, too weak to do anything. Sucking air between his teeth he held his breath for several long seconds before slowly letting it out.

“The Decepticons… they captured the three of us. They transported us to their home-planet via space-bridge and held us for ransom. They wanted some relics known as- known as the Omega Keys that the Autobots had just found. They’re keys that hold the power to unlock another relic that’s powerful enough to restore their home planet. And Optimus-” 

Jack’s throat closed up. It hurt. He couldn’t breath. Punching his leg hard, he broke down. Putting his face in his hands he cried, “And Optimus agreed! He- he ordered the Autobots to exchange the keys... for  _ us. _ They tried saving us. Keep us safe.  _ But it didn’t work! _ Right after the exchange happened, Megatron fired the Omega Lock, but he targeted Earth. Optimus tried- he tried- he tried to stop it. Ordered his soldiers to destroy the Lock even, but they were all…”

“Massacred.” Miko spit. That fire was back in her eyes as she stared at the memory of her guardian in the dredges of her cup.

Jack covered his mouth and heaved. The acidic taste of the food filled his senses and he struggled to keep his dinner down. Hands were suddenly on his shoulders and back, rubbing furiously. He could barely feel it though. This was definitely one of those weird out-of-body experiences he had heard about because while he was aware of touch and sound, everything was muted. He felt somehow freed telling their story, but the ending was something that was quite literally choking the life out of him. He knew he was failing to breath and through massive effort he opened his mouth and filled his lungs with as much air as humanly possible. Jack allowed himself to focus on Carly’s care for a little while, as he tried to ground himself back to reality. It was hard. He wanted nothing more than to be like Raf; just a kid oblivious to the current circumstances.

Once he knew he could speak again, he straightened and looked at her right in the eyes. “That’s why we can’t stay here. The Autobots are gone. We have to tell someone, the military probably, about- about the Omega Keys. Because Megatron is going to keep using them to change Earth. What he did to Nevada was just the start.”

Carly sat back down, looking as worn down as the children. Her lips were pressed together firmly and she kept switching her stare from Jack to Miko. Both the teenagers faced her solemnly. 

“Well,” she finally sat back with the nearly empty mug in her hand, but she didn’t seem interested in finishing it off. “That is quite the story.”

Jack’s stomach dropped. Did she really not believe them? True, it was quite fantastic and Jack was sure  _ he _ would have a hard time believing anything if he didn’t experience it himself. But it  _ was _ true.

“It’s true,” Miko whispered. Jack could hear the traces of his own fears and desperation in her voice.

“And I believe you.”

Both Jack and Miko sagged in relief. Jack could almost cry again.

“And if you’ve had so much contact with these aliens then I’m sure you’re some of the few people that can actually help. So the sooner you get into contact with someone important, the better.”

Jack stood up. For the first time in what felt like forever, Jack was feeling positive. “Yes. Yes, exactly!”

“So we need to go upstairs and use Dylan’s set-up.”

“What? No!” All that optimism crashed hard.

Carly narrowed her eyes at Jack’s denial. Slowly rising to her feet, she asked, “Why not? If this is truly that important, then you need to use something to communicate. Dylan has the only equipment I know of that is working right now.”

Her frown stretched at both Jack’s and Miko’s adamant refusal. Miko’s hair, though brushed and pulled back, still left stringy, damp stands on her cheeks when she vigorously shook her head.

“He-” Jack groaned. He hadn’t thought this part through. He knew he had to say it though, considering how Miko’s last attempt went. “We were on the  _ Nemesis _ , the space ship, until I guess Megatron got tired of us. Some humans were summoned onto the ship, who took us away. D-dylan Gould was in charge of them. He- he’s been working  _ with _ the Decepticons just as much as the Autobots did with the government! He told me himself. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, Carly. But Mr. Gould, he’s not who you think he is! He’d rather work with Megatron, listen to his lies, than try and fight. He’d prefer to sell out Earth to save his own skin. I’m sorry, Carly. I’m sorry I have to tell you this. I wish it wasn’t true.”

“Now  _ that  _ is something I don’t believe,” Carly said harshly. “He may be somewhat egotistical but I can’t imagine him as you describe. Now come on. We need to go make those phone calls.”

No. No, that wouldn’t work! Jack just knew it wouldn’t work. His heart felt shattered. Carly believed them, but not enough. She was so infatuated with her fiancee that she couldn’t see the devil for who he really was. 

Regardless, Jack knew they couldn’t return to those rooms. If they did, their chances of getting out and reaching anyone were reduced to zero. But where would they run to? The police? Chicago P.D. was doubtfully equipped with the means to fend off an alien invasion. 

Jack paused in his rapid thinking. Carly had mentioned that Dylan Gould was prepared enough to have working technology. Now, he didn’t know what the relationship was between that man and the Cybertronian tyrant, but he couldn’t imagine Megatron offering favors to the human. Dylan probably wasn’t informed about Megatron’s plans to cyberform the Earth or the subsequent EMP attack. But Dylan was still prepared for a scenario like a nation-wide black-out. Which reminded him about some random things he learned about city-state protocols. With the threat of EMP attacks made more known to the public, most cities took steps to ensure their functionality even during a crisis. Government headquarters, water treatment plants, power-grids, and law enforcement agencies were starting to reformat their structures to counteract catastrophes like this. What were the chances that a nearby police station was equipped with the same tools Dylan was using?

Jack was willing to take the chance to find out. 

“Fine,” he said.

“Jack!”

“Miko,” he whipped his head around to stare at the furious girl. “Trust me.”

Her face contorted into a knotted glare but it faded into submission when Jack wouldn’t back down. “OK, whatever, Jackrabbit. Better know what you’re doing.”

“Well, then, now that that’s settled, let’s be off. It’s harder walking up those stairs than down.” Carly was back to her old self. When she moved to help Raf stand, Jack just waved her off. If his plan was to work, he needed Raf by his side.

They walked out of the restaurant and entered the lobby of the hotel, which was quite the labyrinth of luxury. On the other side of the wall was the check-in desk angled to face the entrance behind which was the grand staircase. The three children fell in line behind Carly, with Jack in the middle. Three of the four guards had moved ahead as some sort of protection which didn’t bode well for Jack.

As quietly as he could, being highly aware of the last guard on their heels, he leaned over to his sister and whispered, “Pull a Miko. Meet up outside.”

For her part, it took only a second for the girl to understand him. But she hesitated and communicated with her eyes her worry. She didn’t need to though. As they neared their target the entire plan fell into place. A few steps into the foyer, Jack paused.

“Raf, your shoe’s coming off again.” He hoped his acting was good enough. Since the borrowed shoes were really too big, they had several issues before. Carly only paused for a second, before smiling at Jack.

“You really are responsible, aren’t you?”

It was supposed to be a compliment, he knew, but Jack couldn’t help but cringe. Optimus had apparently thought the same thing. He remembered the feeling of humility and awe when Ratchet explained that Jack reminded him of Orion Pax, but now he could only feel bitter despair. Being responsible wasn’t enough. He had to  _ do _ something to keep his family safe. And maybe, just maybe, they could fight back.

“I just… try to do what’s right,” he shrugged, ignoring the painful twinge in his throat. Taking his time to make sure Raf’s shoes were on tight, Jack counted down. When he reached zero and no fuss had been made, he slowly stood back up again. “Done,” he said brightly but he felt that his smile was strained. He felt Raf squirm under his tense grip, but he didn’t dare let go. Blinking in mock confusion and surprise he looked frantically around.

“Where’s Miko?”

Carly whipped around in a circle, searching the area for the girl. But she was nowhere. They, along with the guards, were the only ones in the lobby besides a strict looking manager and a nervous elderly bellhop.

Jack didn’t have to fake his groan or frustration when he explained, “Miko’s… well, Miko. She likes to disappear and chase after danger. Running after the Autobots got us in more scraps than I care to remember.”

“Well that’s very irresponsible!” Carly fumed. Immediately she began walking back to the restaurant. “We need to find her.”

“Ma’am, we need to head upstairs. It’s starting to get late and the troublemakers will be back soon.” The guard that was shadowing Jack stuck his arm out to stop Gould’s fiancee. Carly did not look happy about the order.

“ _ We need _ ,” she emphasized, “to find that girl before she gets herself into trouble.”

_ Too late for that, _ Jack couldn’t help thinking. Her name should have started with a big, fat T instead of an M. Already he was feeling anxious being separated for this short amount of time, but he was the one who sent her away so he grit his teeth and silently prayed that Carly and the guards would do exactly as he needed.

“Ma’am-”

“Find her then. We’ll head up ourselves.”

The guard nodded at the compromise and waved two others to follow him. It wasn’t as good as Jack hoped, but better than he expected. He watched with Raf as the three guards retraced their steps. Miko wasn’t anywhere to be found though.

“They’ll find her,” Carly’s comforting hand on his shoulder nearly made him jump through the roof. He at least didn’t have to fake his anxiety. But Carly grossly misunderstood the reasons why he was shaking.

“Carly,” he started softly. He changed his mind and bent down to Raf’s level. “Here, Raf, climb on my back. I’ll carry you.”

The twelve-year-old gave him an offended look, but Jack wasn’t backing down. They were running out of time. “Can you trust me?” He wanted to say more, needed to by the look of Raf’s face, but he just couldn’t. Carly was standing right there, and the guard that was left behind was walking up to them.

Finally,  _ finally _ , Raf gave in. He clambered onto Jack’s back and Jack tilted under the weight. When they were steady, he stood up to find Carly giving him a concerned look.

“Jack?”

“Carly…” He started again. Flickering his eyes to the incoming guard, he began stammering. “I’m- I’m sorry. I really am. But please believe us. That’s all I will ever ask of you. Thank you- thank you for everything.”

“Jac-”

Jack didn’t stick around to hear the rest. He turned as fast as he could, startling Raf, but he couldn’t worry about that. He needed to run. And run he did.

He ignored the startled shout of the guard and Carly’s baffled cries. Raf’s grip tightened around his neck and Jack picked up his speed. Urging his feet to move faster, he flew past the entrance of the dinning room. He barely took notice of another guard curiously sticking his head out to see the commotion. In no time he was in front of the grand, sparkling glass doors that lead to the outside. To freedom. He nearly tumbled after tripping over his ill-fitting shoes, but sheer determination and Raf’s calculated compensation allowed him to push themselves past those doors and step into the sunlight.

With barely enough time to take in their surroundings, Jack was again flying down the steps and he turned randomly to the right. Filling his lungs with air, he shouted as loud as he could, “MIKOOO!!”

He felt chills run down his spine when he heard the doors open again, and angry shouts of the men chasing them. Jack gripped Raf’s legs to keep him steady and he shot down the sidewalk. 

“Miko!” he cried again. 

He was worried. He didn’t plan this through. Miko may not have even exiteted the hotel yet. Or she was caught by some other adult. What should he do? As fast as he was, the guards were closing in on them. He would have a bit of energy to make a final sprint down some alleyway he didn’t know, but he couldn’t leave Miko behind.

Making up his mind, he turned down the side of the hotel and sprinted past dirty puddles, piles of trash, and what might have been a homeless person curled up in worn clothing. Praying for a miracle, he shouted again, “Miko! Where are you?”

He was nearing the end of the hotel, and was dreading the choice he had to make at the upcoming intersection. The guards were closing in because Jack had slowed down, and they looked furious.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing!?” One of them demanded. 

Jack ignored the question as he again shouted, “Miko! Hurry up!” He made it to the back of the hotel, but didn’t see his friend. His heart sank, but he continued to run.

All of a sudden, he saw a black and pink flash above him and he swerved to the side. Behind him he heard the surprised swears of several people along with a nasty crash. Miko’s whoop then filled the air, and Jack dared to turn around.

Miko was standing proudly atop a dumpster, with another heavy-looking trash bag ready to be chucked at a moment’s notice. “And stay down!” she cried triumphantly.

“A-a Miko, I don’t think they’re gonna.” Jack said dumbly. He then shook his head and ordered. “Get down already. We’ve gotta move!”

The bona fide wrecker pushed her lips out in a pout, but tossed the bag on top of the struggling guards. “Later, as in never creeps!” she taunted as she elegantly jumped onto the ground next to Jack.

He didn’t bother wasting breath to tell her to keep up. Fact was, even though he was in decent shape, being weighed down by Raf made it hard to keep pace with the girl. When they came to the end of the alleyway, they slid into the turn, nearly running into several strangers.

Jack could only mutter an apology but couldn't spare anything more than that. It was then Miko piped up, “Any idea where we’re going?”

Sucking in another breath, he gasped, “Away.”

Miko rolled her eyes as she pulled just barely ahead again, “Yeah, brilliant plan.”

That ticked him off. If he had the air, Jack would have given Miko a piece of his mind. At least they were out. At least they were away from Dylan and the tratrious people next to him. At least they could now find real help in this jungle of concrete. 

His eyes darted around the street. Unease churned his stomach, and it wasn’t related to his exertion. Groups of people were scattered about. Some looked jittery while others looked hellbent on destruction. Several people were hurriedly snatching items out of broken windows of cars and store fronts, but there honestly wasn’t much left to scavenge. Chicago was a nightmare. It was then Jack remembered Carly stating that the city was thrown into an uproar before Jack and his friends had arrived at the hotel. Broken glass covered every square inch of the ground and residual ash was coating his mouth. Ghosts of frightened faces appeared several stories above him and terrifying glints of metal shined in thugs' hands.

Jack’s heart jumped to his throat when one such punk reached out for Miko with a leer. Miko reacted quickly, though. In a flash, she batted his arm away and kicked the gangster in the groin.

“Out of our way!” she bellowed. Jack took note to maybe not piss her off any time soon.

Unfortunately, Jack wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge the second sister pair of hands, so he and Raf were sent tumbling to the ground. He cried out when his knees hit the pavement. Raf bounced and rolled off him just out of reach. Scrambling to get up Jack was immediately pushed back to the ground by a very heavy, very unkind boot. All of the air left him, and Jack felt like he was dying. After the mad sprint with Raf on his back, he just ran out of energy. His muscles were screaming at him, and though his skin was cold and clammy, his body felt unnaturally warm. 

“Where yoo running to, huh, PUNK!?”

Jack felt spittle rain down his neck and cringed. Sucking in a breath he not only smelled but tasted the putrid muck and disgusting refuse of the city which made his stomach roll. He heard Miko’s angry shouts that promptly turned to a squeal of pain. That lit the fire in his blood, and Jack forced his hands under him and tried pushing himself up off the ground, despite the weight leaning into him.

Unexpectedly, several gunshots rang out and Jack felt the weight suddenly disappear as a sickening thump landed next to him. Scrambling to his knees he looked over. And wished he hadn’t. The gangster had fallen to the ground, dead, with blood pouring out of a hole in his chest. Jack threw up.

Acid chunks of the once delicious meal burned his already injured throat. His whole body shivered as he tried forcing himself to stop. But Jack’s mind had frozen in shock. What had happened?

“Get up!” a sharp voice ordered, one that was laced with fury and something else that Jack couldn’t identify in his haze.

Instead of immediately standing up like his instincts told him, Jack crawled over to Raf, being careful to avoid the still body next to him. In the few seconds they had been separated, his little brother had been pinned against a wall. Slumped across him was another dead gangster. For a moment he was afraid that one of the bullets had hurt him and Jack feverishly dragged the body off the small boy. Raf was deadly still, and Jack pawed across his chest and abdomen to check for wounds. Other than a fresh scrap across his chin and cheek, Raf seemed physically OK. Then his shaking returned without warning and in full force as a high, fear-filled cry pierced the air.

Jack immediately wrapped his arms around his little brother and brought him into his lap. Rocking him gently, he whispered, “Raf. It’s- you’re not hurt. See, Raf. You’re not hurt. It- I- Just... Raf, you’re OK! Just listen to me! You’re OK! I got you, Raf, so you’re OK.”

His escalating shouts halted when Jack felt a beefy hand encase his arm. His grip slipped when he was yanked to his feet, and he watched in rage as Raf tumbled the few inches to the ground.

" _ Raf! _ " He yelped and he surged forward uselessly. The hand gripping him was a unyielding as steel.

“Come here!” That same troubled voice demanded, and Jack finally faced the threat. It was the same guard that had followed him out of the hotel. And he looked furious. 

It was then Jack heard Miko’s own struggle. A spiteful, howling “NO!” scratch his ears and reinforce Jack’s own efforts to break free. 

Close! They were so close to getting away! If the guards dragged them back now, there was not a chance in high hell that they would ever leave their rooms again. He had to  _ do something! _

“Do you really want to die!? You’re a fool for following Gould!” Jack screeched as he twisted around to better face the man, but oh, it hurt. Arms were not to be at that angle.

“You’re the idiot that ran away!” The guard screamed back. Jack could only choke on his cry of pain as he was shook around because he just now identified that emotion lacing the stiff guard’s words.

Fear.

Everywhere Megatron went, he incited fear.

“I only did it because I had to. The Decepticons, those metal titans, they  _ can _ be defeated, and I know how!”

As he thought, the guard twitched and his grip loosened. Just a little more, he only needed a bit more.

“Yeah, right kid! You’re full of it!”

The iron grip returned, but Jack emboldened himself. He could do this.

“No. I’m not! I’ve seen them-” he choked on his words as Arcee’s flickering and fading optics came to mind. He couldn’t stop the shudder that passed through him and he shifted his weight again. “I’ve seen them die,” he stated in a hushed voice. “And I need to tell the government, anybody with the firepower, to stand up to them.  _ Because we can _ .”

The fingers trembled and twitched and Jack tensed as his moment came. His heart thudded in his chest as he watched the guard’s face flicker between doubt, confusion, hurt, stubbornness, and fear. Inside he couldn’t help but chant,  _ Believe me, Believe me _ . But in the heartbeat before he made his move another sharp, authoritative voice rang out.

“Let them go!”

The grip returned and Jack grunted when he was forcibly jerked around when the guard moved to face the new threat. But it wasn’t a threat at all, but salvation! A tight group of six policemen in full riot gear were standing at the ready.

The guard hesitated and glanced at his other two companions. They, too, were stunned to find themselves on the wrong side of the law, caught manhandling children. Silent communication passed between them, and the guard holding Jack slowly returned his gun to his holster under his formal jacket.

“We’re not a threat,” he began.

“Yeah, right, creeps!” Miko shouted and began her struggles anew. The two guards holding her down seemed far less eager to do so now.

“Let them go!” The lead officer demanded again.

“We were saving these... children.” Jack could hear the multiple insults the guard wanted to throw out. “We’re part of the Diamond Star Security Services, currently contracted under Mr. Dylan Gould, CEO of the Gould Enterprises and Finances.”

“Uh-huh. Let the kids go.”

“They’re under our protection!”

“You call that protecting!?” Another of the officers shouted in outrage and the line shifted as each of the offended men prepared themselves.

“Let- let me go!” Jack spoke up. He squirmed under his captor’s hold and contorted his face in agony. All fuel for the fire.

He heard the click of the guard’s teeth just as he was carelessly dropped. “Fine,” the guard snapped. “Take them! But be warned, we’ll come pick them up at the station. They really  _ are _ under our protection.”

Jack wasted no time in scrabbling to Raf and half dragging, half carrying him into the midst of the police that parted for him. He couldn’t believe how their luck had changed. They were saved! They were finally saved. Miko materialized next to him and helped him lift Raf. The boy was still delirious, light trembles still attacking his tiny body.

“Here, set him down. Set him down!” One of the riot police ordered. He swiftly tore off a glove and rested two fingers on Raf’s wrist. “How long has he been like this?”

“Uuhh… tw-two, maybe three days? It’s happens on and off, it’s hard to keep track.”

There was a sharp huff of breath and Jack suspected the older man wanted to swear. He ignored him though as he watched Gould’s guards slink away.

“Wait, you’re not going to arrest them!?” Miko asked in panic.

“Let’s get them to the station. The little one is having a panic attack, but it seems to be under control.”

“You didn’t answer her question,” Jack retorted sharply. He rose onto his aching feet when Raf was caringly taken from his arms. “They- they- they ki-they  _ shot _ those gangstersss.”

Jack was faced with a reflective wall of faces. Though he couldn’t see their reactions, he knew there was an air of hopelessness.

“We’re trying our best out here, kid,” another one spoke as he shifted the clear shield in his hand. “But Chicago is a shitshow like you wouldn’t believe. We tried arresting the criminals, looters, and everyone else, but it’s become too much. All we’re good for now are simple patrols to hopefully keep things to a minimum before the Guard shows up.”

“You mean the military?”

“Let’s move. It’s getting dark out. The station’s not to far, but we need to go fast.”

Jack and Miko were herded together along with the officer that carried Raf in his arms. The older boy was slightly grateful he didn’t have to carry his brother anymore. His strength was leaving him fast, and it was all he could do to put one foot in front of the other.

“But, the military? How soon will they be here?”

“Soon,” was the curt answer. Jack felt like that was the end of the conversation, but after a tense silence, the most talkative of the group asked, “So what were you doing out in the street anyway?”

“Running,” was Miko’s own short answer.

“No kidding,” another scoffed.

“Can we… talk about it when we get somewhere safe? Please?” Jack spoke quietly. He curled his arms around his chest, briefly brushing his fingers across his bruised-but-healing knuckles.

There was an uneasy pause and Jack could feel the scrutinizing, even sympathetic gazes from behind those dark visors. Finally, the one in the lead replied in a kinder tone, “Of course. Let’s pick up the pace. We’re almost there.”

Jack and Miko had no complaints. They fell silent as each focused on steadily placing one foot in front of the other. Steadily increasing their distance from that opulent but terrifying hotel and the dangers lurking there was all they wanted. All they wanted was to be free to go home.


	18. Tiger, Tiger

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ There’s an old earth saying, “Take the tiger by the tail”. Oh, you probably don’t know what a tiger is. It’s a beast; extinct relative of cats today, though much, much larger. If you go to the archives, you’ll be able to find more information. But getting back to my point, tigers are deadly predators. One is an absolute madman to attempt to touch it, let alone grab it’s tail. I was too foolish at the time to understand that I-  _

_ I thought there was a chance, an opportunity- but that was my delusion. The tiger already had me in it’s grasp and… and in my desperation, I grabbed it’s tail.  _

_ I grabbed the tiger’s tail and a city of three million people paid the price.  _

_ ~  _ Excerpt taken from _ Memoirs of Darby, Vol. 1 _

**Chapter 18: Tiger, Tiger**

The steady rush of boots on tile woke Jack from his restless slumber. Not that he was really sleeping. The new surroundings, coupled with the less-than-luxurious accommodations and his never-ending anxiety culminated into tossing and turning and terrifying nightmares all night long. Jack was tired and jittery and his previous high from escaping the hotel had quickly flatlined when the trio had arrived safely at the police station. None of the adults would even humor listening to them, too caught up in their own pilling troubles. Oh, there were reports made, and those questioning them gave appropriately softened gazes and heartfelt pats to soothe their trauma. But no one listened.

The entire atmosphere of the building was tense at best. More often, though, there were shouting matches between haggard civilians that occassionally broke out into fistfights that were quickly cut off by the weary officers. Everyone was on edge, and it appeared that even the most resolute and optimistic had already been worn down in the few short days since the President’s brief declaration and the tragic aftermath. 

Which was why the rejoicing and whooping was so out of place in this grim environment, and curiosity is what dragged the exhausted teenager to his feet. Jack felt, more than saw, Miko throw her own scratchy blanket to the side in preparation to stand but he put a hand out to stop her.

“Stay with Raf,” he ordered. “I’ll find out what’s wrong. Be back as soon as I can.”

Miko surprisingly didn’t complain. She had spent a good portion of the night flitting from group to group, loudly proclaiming Earth’s imminent destruction. It didn’t go so well. The officers’ previous good-will toward the bruised child were whittled down as she constantly disobeyed their orders in her attempt to rally support. Eventually her adrenaline had run its course, and she collapsed exhausted and tearful and angry at the adults’ apathy. Jack had tried to comfort her once, like maybe how a big brother should, but she only snapped at him to leave her alone. But he knew she slept just as well as he did for as often as he heard her cry. So it was now late in the morning, but no one was feeling rested. And Miko must have still been feeling emotionally hurt by the others to have willingly stayed behind. So Jack carefully made his way on his own to the door of their accommodations, which was a storage closet of all things. He wasn’t about to complain. Between their options of sharing a cell with some other refugees or a cold spot in the morgue, the tiny storage closet filled with office supplies was a haven. 

After letting some people pass, Jack entered the flowing crowd and moved down the hall and stairs. It was dark here too, because of the lack of windows and electricity to power the lights, but he kept a hand on the railing and moved at a steady pace, feeling the brush of bodies in front of and behind him. Before too long he found himself on the ground floor and the sight that greeted him made him tear up.

“The Guard’s here!” he breathed. The tremble left his hands for a moment and it was almost a shock as his body instinctively relaxed with the good news. After being pushed in the shoulder by an impatient stranger behind him, he jumped right into the rush and surged forward with the others.

“Excuse me!” he shouted. “I need- ow, I need to-uh, speak to- hey, careful! Whoa. Slow down!”

Though large, the entrance to the police station was strategically designed to prevent large crowds from forming. Jack was pushed to the side as the number of harried and frenzied officers and civilians continued to flood the place. The noise escalated, growing in volume each second as every person vied for attention from the newly arrived heroes. Jack could only slam his hands over his ears and make himself as small as possible as the chaos continued.

He didn’t know how long it lasted but everyone knew when it ended. A man, looking very different from the other newcomers due to his dark, crisp suit, had produced a small, hand-held device. Immediately a shrill siren forced the panicking crowd to a stop.

Calmly holding the device in the air, the man stated just as calmly, “May I have your attention,  _ please _ . And for the love of Lady Liberty,  _ stop panicking. _ We’re here now.”

Jack was impressed. The unusual man carried a sense of importance while simultaneously radiating calmness that soothed the unruly people.

“The National Guard has arrived to bring order and relief to the city of Chicago. You will wait your turn,  _ in line _ ,  _ after _ they have been properly set up in this facility. There are other numerous facilities being set up all around the city in public domains, such as City Hall, parks, community centers, and several hospitals. If you are in need of medical attention, I recommend you head to the hospitals immediately. But if you are here out of concern for your safety, then please wait calmly and patiently. I am Agent Alfred Jones. I am a part of a special government task force and am here for only one thing. Now please move out of my way while I retrieve the files I need.”

It was like Moses had just stepped into the water. People pressed against each other to make way for the intimidating agent. The man looked for all the world as if he was merely strolling through a garden, for as nonchalantly as he passed them. There was no demanding or fuss from him, but a simple, stark confidence that people would do as he said. Jack couldn’t figure out how the man was capable of such assurance. He looked far too relaxed to have such a commanding aura.

Just before the man slipped through the door to the stairs, Jack pushed himself off the wall. “Stop. Wait!” but it was to no avail. As soon as the man had passed, the crowd filled in the gap. Jack grunted as he had to push against so many unwilling bodies. He grew a little more desperate as he fought against the tide. “Move! Move out of my way. Please!”

The crowd didn’t seem to listen to him. Their focus had returned to the flustered Guards who were hastily setting up at the front desk with wagons of supplies they must have brought from outside. Jack didn’t give up though. He pushed and maneuvered until at last he popped out of the crowd.

Catching himself on the doorframe, he wearily pried it open and slipped through, leaving the light and noise behind. In its place was that same suffocating darkness and Jack was frozen in fear at finding himself alone. Instead of being in an office building in the middle of a city, he was back underground. Lost. Confused. Crying out for someone who couldn’t answer. Faced with a choice he should have made, but didn't. 

“H-help! Please!”

A bright light shined in his eyes and Jack flinched. Pressing himself against the wall, he brought a trembling hand to his eyes and squinted through his fingers. A ray of light was coming from above him, and a familiar calm and cool voice answered his call.

“If you are in need, I suggest turning around and going back out to stand in line. You’ll have a long enough wait as it is.”

“Wait!” Shaking his head free of the confusion and conflicting feelings, he sputtered, “I just need to know! Which task force are you from?”

There was a pause as the light wavered. Jack heard the faintest of sighs before the man turned away from him. “What’s it matter?” Agent Jones replied in a deceptively nonchalant tone. “I’m on duty and need to get my job done. This blackout is making it so much harder.”

Rapidly blinking to adjust to the sudden change, Jack attempted to walk up the stairs. “ _ Please _ . Are- are you from NEST?”

The spotlight suddenly returned to him just as Jack tripped. Catching himself on his bruised palms he let out a sharp hiss. But his momentary hurt was forgotten when the calm voice turned hard as ice.

“What do you know about NEST, kid?”

Rubbing his palms together to ease the ache, Jack boldly turned his face into the bright light. “NEST: Non-Biological Extraterrestrial Species Treaty. Agent Fowler is the direct liaison for the Autobots. ...I-I can keep going.”

Jack had paused because when he mentioned the patriot’s name, there was a scrambling of footsteps as the unusual man hurried down the stairs. He felt a shiver run down his back as he was left in stark brightness, unable to see anything beyond the circle of light. But despite his disadvantage, Jack didn’t feel afraid. This was a one-in-a-million chance and he knew that his gut was right to trust the agent.

“Auto….bots? ...That’s quite the made-up name, don’t you think? You need to stop playing so many video games, kid. What are you going to come up with next-”

“Decepticons,” Jack stated just as blandly. “How’s that for an alien name? Or, I don’t know... Megatron? But wait, there’s a plot twist: After their eons of fighting, Megatron finally kills Optimus Prime on their dead planet Cybertron after a scrimmage over a relic that can cyberform planets was discovered.”

Long, breathless seconds choked the air out of Jack. Despite being flooded with light, he could still see, still  _ feel _ the darkness encroaching. It was right there, ready to bury him again and again until he succumbed to its embrace. But he didn’t want to back down now. Not when he was  _ this close _ to getting somewhere _. _

“Yeah, that’s one hell’uva plot twist,” the agent spoke in a cold, stern tone, though Jack didn’t feel like it was aimed at him. “ ...Your name.”

Rising to his feet, the bruised and heart-broken teenager declared, “Jack Darby. From Jasper, Nevada. And Arcee’s human partner.”

A low whistle echoed through the empty staircase. A warm hand reached out and held Jack steady when he swayed uneasily. 

“You’re a long way from Nevada, Jack.”

No kidding, the teenager wanted to retort, but he forced the impulsiveness to the side. Still, some spitefulness entered his voice as he replied with, “I’ve been farther.”

“Cybertron, right? To download some memories or what-not.” The agent was positively chatty now that Jack had pried him open. The teenager wasn’t about to complain. It was like the floodgates had opened and all the pent-up stress from talking with people who didn’t know what was going on was released. He and Miko had spent  _ hours _ over the course of the night trying to convince the local police to help them get into contact with the military. All they got were exhausted, unimpressed stares and orders to go to sleep. Like they were misbehaving toddlers afraid of nightmares. It was infuriating.

Walking together up the stairs, Jack continued his short monologue, eager to give out the vital information weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Vector Sigma. Basically a database of the Primes. But Raf, Miko, and I just took a recent, unexpected trip there courtesy of your favorite Decepticon lieutenants. They found us. ...And used us as bargaining chips.”

“Scrap-heaping cowards.” The insult rolled so naturally off the agent’s tongue that it made Jack question how much interaction the man had with the actual aliens. “Where’s the other two?”

“Fourth floor.”

Agent Jones groaned. “I need to get to the tenth. I was hoping to get this done as quickly as possible, but it looks like I may need to set up some coms, inform Offutt that I’ll be bringing company.”

“Huh, what do you mean?”

“Contact the higher-ups. Most likely they’ll say to bring you in. As much as I hate to admit it, of all the people on the Earth you three kids are the ones with the most contact with the aliens. It’ll suck having the shrinks pick your brains, but whatever information you have about Cybertronians is of greatest importance right now.”

Jack glumly looked to the floor. “Because Megatron’s got plans.” Plans to cyberform his planet. “And you need to stop him.”

“That’s the jist of it,” Jones agreed. He paused and moved the flashlight across the wall. “Well, here’s your stop. I don’t know how long it will take me to get the information I need, but try to stay where you are. I’ll pick you up as soon as I’m done.”

Grudgingly, Jack left the NEST agent’s side and entered the empty office floor. Seeing that no one was around, he leaned against the wall and stared at nothing. His mind was blank. He couldn’t comprehend this incredible turn of events. They were saved. Miko and Raf would be safe. Earth could be saved.

* * *

Megatron would have happily destroyed this planet already if he weren’t so invested in remaking it. As it was, he had to settle with eliminating the troublesome humans as they came. The Decepticons’ victory circumnavigation of their conquered planet hadn’t gone as smoothly as the leader had imagined. When their uncloaked ship passed over the humans’ meager cities, one after the other, they all seemed to react the same, though with growing fervor. Their communication networks would explode with photos and useless dialogue, as individuals would run out into their streets looking for all the world like a hoard of scraplets on a rampage. As Starscream led his new mockery of Seekers to fly intimidating laps around, it was then the human governments would react. They sent out their small, bumbling forces which would immediately be crushed with glee by Starscream’s bunch. But as the parade went on, the humans got smarter. 

Soundwave had to intercept messages and codes crossing through the military networks in an attempt to prevent, of all things, the self-eradication of the species as they fired off multiples of their most powerful weapons. Several more times his TIC sent the nuclear warheads right back to the nations’ capitals as a repeat lesson, but he was forced to send most of the unstable energy sources out toward the sun to prevent world-wide radioactive fallout. Their human operatives were scrambling as best they could to prepare humanity for their new role under Cybertronian rule, but it would still be months before everything was complete. Megatron was slightly worried that the fleshies would be wiped out before then due to their own absurdity. He ordered Soundwave to track down every last trace of anything nuclear and shut it down by any means necessary. It left his TIC strained and stressed, as the humans had apparently stockpiles everywhere, and though some nations had thought they were intelligent enough to upgrade their computer systems, others had left their most deadly weapons with barely legible lines of code that was old even for human standards. It frustrated the spymaster to no end. 

Pathetic little creatures. They had no sense of self-preservation and were selfish enough to injure their own kind in order to preserve their own small square of the world. No honor. No loyalty. No courage could be found among them. They were, as a whole, an all-too-familiar type of brilliance. He honestly couldn’t understand what Optimus saw in the species that was worth sacrificing for.

He received countless inquiries from the humans, all asking the same questions. And every time he would send back his original message. Though the plebeians would still theorize on their blogs and media networks, the leaders grew eerily quiet. Megatron wasn’t worried though. It was the natural course of action. The savvy ones were finally starting to see the only path left ahead, and were at last submitting to his rule.

This all just happened to be a messier process than he anticipated.

But it didn’t matter. This planet was his. And all who fought against him would meet the same fate as the wretched Autobots.

And with that cheery thought, Megatron stepped off the lift onto the solid cybermatter. A cursory glance around showed him the satisfactory results of the Omega Lock’s second use. The small, organic island had been transformed into an adequate piece of cyber material. Unusual, lumping formations cropped up, adding variety to the landscape, and the edges touching the darkened ocean were made of fine glittering cybertronian sand. This, so far, was a superb experiment, but he would wait to hear his head scientist’s analysis before coming to a final conclusion. 

Not wanting to waste any time, the Decepticon Lord headed to where Shockwave was patiently waiting, with his Second-in-Command tailing behind. They hardly had to walk at all before they were standing close to the being that brought them all the way out to this secluded location. 

Shockwave was facing a large arm, his single red optic turning slowly as he inspected the details of the hand. As far as combiners went, from what Megatron could see, this particular one was on the smaller side; not quite three times his size. Still, to have found one on this planet was quite the surprise. 

“This is quite the discovery you have made, Shockwave,” he rumbled in pleasure. The scientist quickly turned around and bowed to his Lord, while Starscream vibrated in displeasure next to him. 

“One that perhaps is by chance, Lord Megatron. Further testing through the Omega Lock will help me to conclude my findings.”

“Obviously it’s by chance,” Starscream muttered. “Anyone who first came to this island would have a hard time missing the combiner who’s taking up half the space.”

“That is an obvious statement, Starscream, and I can only conclude that you need to point it out due to your own slow processor.”

Always an antagonizing dance between the two. Megatron grew tired of their little games. Choosing to ignore them both, he cut between the rising tension with his own EM field.

“I came here for the results, not to hear you two squabble.” With that small amount of pressure, his subordinates backed off quickly. “So, Shockwave, any theories as to why there is a combiner on a previous NEST island?”

Shockwave nodded at that and slowly began walking the length of the combiner and Megatron fell in step beside him. “From Knock-Out’s data it appears that a small percentage of the human population can be mutated through the Omega Lock. His sampling of the mutants' CNA shows near identical strands to our own, with only aberrations showing in less than one to three-million codes. So it’s perfectly within reason that these mutants can carry the same highly-sought after properties of Cybertronians. I currently hypothesize for the same ratios to exist here on this planet as they do on Cybertron: Grounders to fliers, mechs to femmes, minicons to standards to cityformers, et cetera. As to why these humans mutated into a fully formed combiner, that is more difficult to explain, but I believe I have found an answer.”

Megatron curiously looked on as Shockwave clambered onto the silent and still combiner. Hearing the silent expectation, he also swung onto the mutant and stepped across it’s chest to see where Shockwave was pointing. The scientist was already hard at work vivisecting the combiner, as it’s chest had been carefully pried open. Through the gap in the armor and past the various cables and wires, he saw the bright, fluctuating spark chamber of the large mech. That revelation sent a shiver of excitement through him.

“An enigma!” he proclaimed just as Starscream scrambled next to him. The seeker moved curiously forward as his own inquisitiveness pushed his ego aside for the moment.

“The Omega Lock can replicate this as well?” he asked as he knelt to inspect the uniquely shaped spark chamber.

“It’s not just replicating, Starscream,” Shockwave pointed out. “It’s more perfect of an enigma than I’ve been able to reproduce in my labs. The Omega Lock is building a cyberworld using Cybertron as it’s basic blueprint, but it is not just a copy. For example, this enigma is designed to perfectly fit and work with the Cardinal, just like every other real enigma. So somewhere in the files of the Omega Lock exist Nexus Prime’s raw ability.”

“A groundbreaking revelation,” Megatron summed up. “It means the Omega Lock is or somehow was linked to the Well of All Sparks.”

This was revolutionary. Megatron felt a resurgence of the same feelings he had when back in Knock-Out’s medbay when he was questioning the medic. Despite all of Prime’s attempts to foil him, Megatron would always find a way to overcome. If he could not have the Well of Allsparks then he would utilize the Omega Lock. Cybertron  _ would  _ continue on.

“That is my belief,” Shockwave agreed. 

Megatron let that revelation sink in for a few more moments before moving on. “So what other theories have you concocted, my dear scientist? You’ve surely had your fill of this island.”

“Yes, my lord.” Shockwave’s optic turned to scan the surroundings before moving to climb back down to the ground. Megatron followed, but just before he jumped he realized that Starscream hadn’t moved from his spot. He turned to see the Seeker looking thoughtfully down at the enigma, with one of his claws tapping his chin while his other servo was folded behind his back.

Megatron narrowed his optics. He knew that posture all too well; the SIC was plotting something. A burst of fury swelled within him, but he stamped that down with a coilying sweetness. “Oh, Starscream. Care to join us?”

The sniveling little flier whirled around on his heels with a stutter, “Y-yes, Lord Megatron. Coming.”

The Lord of Decepticons was not assured and bared his denta to show his disapproval. “Do not forget, Starscream,” he muttered lowely, “though I chose you over Dreadwing, understand that your chances  _ have run out _ .” He didn’t bother to decipher his SIC’s expression before jumping down to the waiting scientist. 

As he walked the perimeter of the island while being regaled with the facts and theories of the transformation, Megatron continued to keep an optic Starscream. Even though the mech interjected with his own theories backed by his scientific knowledge, the seeker did not say as much as Megatron would have expected. Clearly his processor was on something else to be so distracted. And that annoyed Megatron because as quickly as Starscream was returned to his place, the seeker was doing what he did best and that meant the former gladiator had to play his little game. A waste of effort. He made a special note to _ talk _ to his SIC as soon as they were back on the ship.

As they stood to the side watching the clones busily tie straps around the combiner to lift it into the cargo bay, Megatron received a direct, urgent message from Soundwave. When he heard the contents, his back stiffened and his EM field roared with anger so much that Starscream reeled back in surprise.

“Order Ravage back to the ship,” Megatron demanded through his communicator. “I want to hear his report personally.”

“Master…”

“Continue monitoring the Eradicons, Starscream,” Megatron growled as he stalked away. “There’s other  _ business _ I must attend to.” And without waiting for his SIC’s reply, he transformed and blasted towards the low-hovering ship, not even bothering to use the lift in his haste. 

It wasn’t even two klicks before he reached the bridge where Soundwave was waiting patiently with live satellite feeds broadcasting across every large screen. Waiting at his pedes was Ravage. The beast-like minicon was sitting coolly in imitation of his superior, but even the stern spy waned under his Lord's fiery red gaze.

“Report, Ravage.”

Ravage lept to all four paws in attention. There was only the slightest hesitation before he spoke in his hissing rasp, “Lord Megatron, I was just informed that the humans, Jack and Rafael along with their female companion, escaped just less than a sol ago.”

A guttural growl emitted from Megatron’s chest. He so badly wanted to yell in frustration, but all he did was curl his servos and let Ravage know,  _ quite clearly _ , how he felt about that. Regardless of his feelings, he asked one, low, question, “Where are they now?”

“They were at what the humans considered a safe haven, a police station, until about a megacycle ago. I tracked them to a temporary military compound located just inside the city.”

Megartron’s optics flickered to the screens. Soundwave was doing his best in finding the organics, but the human-made technology could only provide so much information. Like Ravage said, a number of the familiar green and brown tents were set up in orderly fashion across a sprawling green speck of land amidst the city’s towers. 

“Why did you not retrieve them?”

Ravage’s triangle-shaped audials flattened against his head in shame, worry, and unease. “My deepest apologies, Lord Megatron. That was my intention, but when I reached the perimeter I could feel a repulsor. It was at a low setting, my liege, but with that information I believed that I would not be guaranteed to retrieve both humans safely and requested backup through Soundwave.”

A deep, murderous outrage fueled Megatron’s fury. Ravage took a careful step back, even though he knew the anger wasn’t directly aimed at him. The puny humans, as idiotic as they were, did manage to uncover a few cybertronian secrets with thier fumbling. The human version of a repulsor wasn’t deadly, but it could still knock-out an unsuspecting cybertronian. 

With the facts now laid out before him, Megatron focused solely on the videofeed. With the widespread tents, he couldn’t see his human pet, only various adults scrambling from tent to tent, hurrying to take care of the increasing crowds spreading across the edges. He stepped up next to Soundwave, who had, under his stress, loosened his grip on his EM field. Megatron felt the frustration and pensiveness leaking from the spymaster in full. To an onlooker, even though Soundwave was steadily, calmly typing away at the controls while fixated on the screens, Megatron knew he was extremely annoyed. That only became clearer when Megatron noticed the pattern his TIC was typing out.

“What’s the point?” he scoffed.

Without missing a beat, the image of Rafael popped on Soundwave’s visor. And though he tried reigning in his field, Megatron felt that flicker of fear from his former rival. He cocked an opticbrow at that. He hadn’t realized Soundwave had become so attached to the little human already, but he should have expected it. Soundwave had a host of minicons he cared for which required an abundance of emotional input. And though from an outward appearance the former gladiator was stoic and unreadable, he in fact carried a wealth of emotions that a select few others were privy to. So when Soundwave deemed another worthy of his attention, the mech would become obsessed. And little Rafael had garnered Soundwave’s attention after their numerous battles of wit in which the little one somehow managed to gain the upper hand. So no wonder as to why the technical genius wanted his pet.

But teasing the little human like this wouldn’t get Megatron his honorary Prime back. No. “That’s not enough, Soundwave,” the Tyrant rumbled in equal parts of unbridled rage and eager mirth. “They need to be taught a lesson that will be impossible to forget. As soon as the combiner is secure, set a ground bridge for the city’s coordinates. Our circumnavigation is over. And tell all our forces around the globe to gather there. I’m sure no one will want to miss the excitement. And Ravage...”

The cassette jumped to attention at being abruptly called out, but showed no signs of hesitance at Megatron’s orders. “Tell that troublesome bunch of human informants that they had better be prepared for my arrival. Including collars.”

Soundwave paused in his typing, then curtly nodded his head. He immediately set about broadcasting the orders on all the available channels and opening a groundbridge for Ravage to return to the city. But as soon as he was finished, he returned to repeating the same taunting, desperate, coded message to his little pet.

Megatron just stood back and continued to observe the screens. But no matter how critically he scanned the images, his own pet could not be found. Tired of the silence, he scanned through the active communications Soundwave had found in the area. Everything was boring and repetitive. The majority was just standard military orders for a city thrown into chaos, until he stumbled across a very troubling sentence.

_ “-Omega Lock, General Bryce, Sir. A piece of lost Cybertronian tech, or a relic. That’s what’s cyber forming the planet, sir.” _

_ “And it is on cybertron?” _

_ “Yes, sir. But it requires all four keys to be activated. Without all four, it’s useless.” _

Soundwave had stopped his typing, as he had also intercepted the same line. A worrisome brush bounced off Megatron’s field but he ignored it. Having some pompous, weak, human commander know about the Omega Keys didn’t matter. What  _ did  _ was the one giving the information away. 

_ Jack _ .

There was a long pause in the conversation. There were distant conversations on either end of the line, which Megatron didn’t bother deciphering himself as that was Soundwave’s job. He instead focused on the fact that Jack was still there and actively rebelling against him. His little human still clearly held some misguided hope. Megatron curled his servos into fists. Jack would pay for his insolence. The little human would learn beyond a doubt that his only hope to live lay with Megatron.

_ “Agent Jones, get these kids to the base, pronto.” _

_ “Understood, Sir.” _

_ “W-wait! General Bryce, wait. What- what will happen with us? With Raf and Miko? And the rest of the people of earth? Everyone’s so scared.” _

_ “Don’t worry, Darby. The U.S. Military will do everything in its power to keep you safe from the Decepticons.” _

_ “It’s- it’s not only that, sir. We’re… family. We’re already hurting because our own families- and the autobots… are-are gone. We can’t be separated from each other. Can I ask for that? Please? And… a-a chance to fight back against Megatron. He- he’s hurt so many people.” _

_ “...You’ve been through hell and back, kid-Jack. As long as you stay with us, we’ll make sure you and your family make it through this, along with the rest of the world. Stay strong. I and the President will be seeing you in no time. So keep your wits together.” _

_ “...Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” _

_ “Thank you, General. I’ll escort them safely. Until then…” _

_ “Until then.” _

Megatron’s fan’s clicked on due to his buildup of heat. So Jack wanted a fight? Oh, how fervently he wanted to teach the willful human about real power! He was sorely tempted to go there on his own and demolish that city by himself. But this was a teaching opportunity that required patience. So Megatron reigned in his urges and sent in a snappy request to Starscream to hurry up. For Jack to truly learn, he would need to face the entire might of the Decepticons.


	19. Battle over Chicago

**Transformers: Prime**

**Brave New World - Gilded Earth**

_ "Alright, everybody. This is the item you're looking for." _

_ "What? A key?" _

_ "Yes. There's four identical keys. Your mission is to just find one and destroy it." _

_ "And we know they look like this? How?" _

_ "Our informant. They were unfortunately lost in the Chicago Slaughter, but they got this information to us just in time. So do not waste their sacrifice." _

_ "You know, for them being mechanical aliens, you think they would have more interesting keys." _

_ "That's what you have to say about this?" _

\- Quote from  _ POTUS's Last Stand,  _ Scene 12, Lines 1 - 7

**Chapter 19: Battle Over Chicago**

Jack slumped into the folding chair with his arms dangling at his sides. He had done it. He had spoken with General Bryce, one of the top brass that knew about the aliens and actually had the power to do something about it. It was a miracle. 

“You did good, kid.” A warm hand fell onto his shoulder and Jack looked up to see the smiling, clean-shaven face of Agent Jones.

“Thanks,” he muttered. Weariness filled him and he stayed seated for an extra minute although he knew the technician hovering behind wanted his chair back. After forcing himself onto his tired and aching feet, Jack hobbled to the other end of the tent where a case of water bottles and snacks had been laid out, far from all the sensitive equipment. 

“How soon are we leaving?” he asked as he cracked the lid off one bottle and took a refreshing gulp. His throat was inflamed in part from yesterday’s lack of water, the extensive walking they had to do today to get to this camp, and the lengthy talk he just had with the General. Add to it the fact that it still wasn’t completely mended, and Jack was left with quite the sore throat. 

"I'll find out for sure," Alfred Jones replied through a mouthful of twinkie. "But if I had to guess, we'll leave camp in about two hours."

"That fast?" Jack wasn't looking forward to more walking, as they surely would have to do to get to the airfield.

Alfred frowned as he popped the last of the snack in his mouth. "You mean that slow. If this were normal circumstances, without the blackout, we'd be in the air in ten minutes."

The agent was right, Jack supposed. He'd witnessed multiple times how quickly the military forces moved with just a phone call from Fowler. That swiftness was what saved his mother during that terrifying night against Silas and Arachnid. 

His mom… The unexpected reminder made Jack squeeze the plastic bottle reflexively. That emotional pain was still sharp but he was keeping a tighter lid on it. Taking a deep breath, he brought the bottle to his lips and had one last drink from it before crushing and tossing it in the nearest bin.

“I’m going to go see Raf,” he stated.

Jones nodded his head, slightly distracted by yet another junk food item. “I’ll be here for a while longer. Got more work to do,” he stated morosely.

Jack nodded his head at that, and left the agent behind. Pushing the borrowed camouflaged cap back around so the bill was frontward facing to block out the sun, Jack stepped out of the stuffy tent. It was a short walk from the communications center to the small, impromptu medical tent but it still felt like miles.

During their walk from the police station to the sport’s field park where the National Guard had set up an extensive network of tents, he and Miko had peppered the NEST agent with questions on just about everything. The man was at first silent and brooding, constantly replying that it may not be better to know. But Jack and Miko would have none of it. Their lively imaginations painted the bleakest images possible, and they made it clear that with not knowing, their imagination was their reality. Finally, Agent Jones caved. 

He explained how the nuclear bombs that were cleared to take down the  _ Nemesis _ were rerouted to Washington, DC through a spacebridge. Soundwave’s work, no doubt. The bombs’ premature detonation in the atmosphere caused an East-coast blackout and many officials were scrambling to hold things together. Luckily, someone had the sense to hide the President and the cabinet, as well as multiple members of the judiciary and legislative branches along with a host of military commanders, in the fortified underground bunkers. It seemed that the person’s foresight single-handedly saved the American government from extinction. Though things were chaotic for a bit, order was quickly being established. Secondary communications were being used across the country and to neighboring allied nations in order to coordinate rescues and maintain reason. Chicago was far from the only city that broke out into riots after the President’s message and things only got worse after the blackout.

Worse… Jack really couldn’t imagine things getting worse. He had lost his home, his family, his community, and his nation was a complete mess. So it was with a peculiar sense of calmness that he accepted this reality. Strangely, his forced upon trip to Cybertron felt like it happened both only hours ago and distantly like a lifetime. Things were bad, no doubt about that. But they really couldn’t get much worse. It was a wierd, roundabout way to optimism, but Jack was willing to take whatever he could get.

Gently, he pulled back the tent flap and slipped through. It was dark and stuffy, but there was just enough light coming through the gaps at the bottom that he found his way over to where Raf and Miko were huddled together on a cot. The hispanic boy was leaning heavily against Miko, but she didn’t seem to mind. Instead she soothingly spoke to him while brushing her fingers across his slick-backed hair. Jack doubted that Raf could hear her. He was tightly clutching his ears, absolutely refusing to hear anybody or anything. 

This newest symptom arose soon after they arrived here at tent city. All three had just been invited inside the communication’s tent to give their version of events to people they couldn’t even see. Raf was looking alert, and Jack had the high hope that he would speak now when it was most critical. But just minutes before they were able, something went wrong with the equipment or signal or… something. Their window to hear Raf speak was lost in the midst of technicians pacing around, plugging and unplugging machines and running diagnostics, during which time Jack witnessed Raf’s curious, calm look crumble into hysteria. His babbling in three different languages confused and disturbed the workers so much that he was sent out of the tent. Miko went with him to try and calm him down. Jack felt a little guilty about that. He knew Miko wanted to say her piece, but she willingly handed responsibility over to him with the stern declaration to “Kick their butts in gear, Jack.”. He hoped he did.

“Still not doing good?”

Miko shrugged her free shoulder, “A nurse came by to give him a sedative. Told us to stay where it was dark and quiet.”

Jack couldn’t help his light huff that was reminiscent of a laugh. “Bet you’ve been bored to death,” he commented dryly. 

His crazy, reckless friend made a non-committal humm. “I just couldn’t leave Raf, ya know.”

This time Jack did give a smile. Miko could be a real pain-in-the-neck when she wanted to be, but she always did right when it counted. “Thank you,” he said quietly as he settled on Raf’s other side. Gently he patted his little brother's arm before tugging him off of Miko. “Come here, Raf. Miko’s arm has got to be killing her with you holding on that tight.”

“Uuuh, thanks,” she muttered. Stretching both arms high in the air, she breathed deeply.

Helping Raf to get settled, Jack gave her updates as to what happened. He spoke with General Bryce, and the man seemed appreciable of the wealth of information given. When told of Optimus’s death and the demise of most of the Autobots, a heavy, stern silence reigned. The general didn't seem too affected by the news, though, and continued the questioning. When Jack came to the point of how they ended up in Chicago, he told in detail about Dylan Gould’s involvement. Agent Jones’s face twisted in disbelief and glee at hearing that. During a pause in the transmission, Agent Jones whispered to Jack how he had been tracking the elusive leads of the investment manager’s association to alien tech. Apparently their haphazard escape and one-in-a-million run-in was worth much more than the flimsy file and evidence the agent had picked up from the police station. 

“Now they’re making plans with the information we gave them," Jack summed up. "They’ll be flying us out of here to some base in a couple of hours. You should go eat and drink something while you have the chance. We’ll probably be walking on foot for a while.”

“Ewh, more walking,” Miko groaned. She winced as she rose to her feet. “I’ll see if I can track down some pencil and paper before we leave, too.”

“Why?”

“The keys, right?” she gave him a sideways glance before bending over and stretching her legs. Jack couldn’t believe how nimble and flexible she was. He certainly couldn’t touch his toes like that. “You told them about the keys to the Omega Lock. If we’re going to make sure nothing like what Nevada happens ever again they’ll have to destroy the Omega Keys somehow. And to do that they’ll have to identify them. And no offence Jack, but I’ve seen you in art class.”

Jack returned Miko's sassy look with a scowl of his own. “Just not my forté ,” he muttered. Welding or woodworking was much better than hours with a pencil stuck in his hand. But he consented, “Good idea, though, but you probably shouldn’t wait until we get on the plane. They need all the information as soon as they can get it as soon as possible. I’m pretty sure somewhere in that tent was a fax machine, so they can send the drawing now.”

“I want time to get the details right though.”

“Doesn’t need to be perfect,” Jack argued. “Just as long as it’s identifiable, it’ll be enough.”

Miko just sighed, “And that’s the reason why you got a B minus in Art class.” Jack wanted to say something sassy right back, but Miko pulled the tent flap away just before he could.

He huffed, but grinned. He couldn’t say he was happy, but it was nice to see a bit of Miko’s old personality shine through. Her stinging comebacks were just what he needed to help ease the pressure off his shoulders. Jack thought that when his reporting was finished he wouldn’t have to worry anymore, but that wasn’t the case. He couldn’t stop worrying: How long would it take to get to the military base? How long would they stay there? Would Miko decide to go back to Japan, to her family, and what would he do about that? And how could he keep Raf by his side? And how was the world going to fight back against Megatron? Surely humanity would fight against a world-ending threat together.

But no matter what he told himself, the ache in his stomach wouldn’t go away. Ruely, he thought that if he continued like this he would get an ulcer. Which would be ridiculous at his age. With his forehead throbbing and his muscles protesting against the accumulated strain, Jack breathed deeply. Quietly, he struggled to relax. 

Raf shifted against him and Jack squeezed his shoulder. It seemed that the boy had calmed down for now. Or just exhausted himself. With heaviness, Jack murmured, "We'll be outta here soon, Raf. Don't you worry."

The tent fell under a spell of silence. The heat and stuffiness increased as time ticked into the afternoon hour, but Jack had no intention of leaving. It obviously got hot in Nevada, though the proximity to a giant body of water added a new layer of humidity they weren't used to. Both were sweating, and Jack desperately wished for a shower to clean off the stench and send his problems down the drain. But that would have to wait. Like everything else.

* * *

Jack didn't know when he dozed off or how long it had been. Occasionally he would be woken by the passing footsteps and conversations of people maneuvering the compound, but no one ever intentionally disturbed them. When he was lazily debating the pros and cons of hunting down Miko, he heard startled shouts escalating into terror. With a start, he pushed off the cot, disturbing little Rafael. Just as Jack had jumped to his feet, he pitched forward as his soles and calf muscles protested against the sudden movement. 

Collapsing to the ground, he immediately set to work massaging his legs and cursing himself for not thinking to do that earlier. Unexpectedly warm, sticky hands curled around his neck and Jack froze.

Raf had woken up and was shaking in terror. Patting his arms, Jack was just about to murmur comfort, but Rafael's whispered words sent a chill down his spine.

"They've come for us."

_ They? Who were they? _ Jack's stomach flipped-flopped as an immediate answer came to mind. But that shouldn't be possible. There was  _ no reason _ for Megatron to come here. He had worried about Dylan's goons hunting them down at the police station, but since there was no hint of them, or any Decepticon, Jack had dared to believe they were safe.  _ Especially _ once they were brought under the care of the NEST agent.

"Let's get out of here," Jack decided. Rising to his feet, he pulled Raf off the cot but the boy was unsteady. "Nonononono. Not now, Raf!" Jack desperately demanded. This was not the time for Raf to fall into an episode.

Tugging him along a bit forcefully, they made it to the entrance. Just as Jack was about to brush the flap away, he was hit with a face full of sunshine.

"Good, you're up. Now move!" Agent Alfred Jones didn't even sympathize with Jack's squak of sudden blindness. He was quickly pulled along for the first several steps before he could blink his eyes into focus.

"What's happening?" He asked as he felt a rush of people fly past him in a panic. He gripped Raf's hand tighter, and he felt his little brother bump into him several times as he tried staying glued to his side.

"You seriously haven't seen it yet?" Alfred asked in disbelief as they broke into a run.

Jack felt a little defensive at the accusation and was about to bite back a retort when a shadow fell over them. Squinting his eyes, he looked up to the horizon, fully expecting to see a puffy cloud being blown across the afternoon sun. But what was actually blocking the sun was definitely not puffy. It was sharp and wicked-looking. Jack came to a full halt as he stared at the alien warship exiting the giant groundbridge in the air.

_ The Nemesis _ was here.

Jack didn't even register Raf bump into him, or feel thin arms wrap around his waist. He didn't hear the crying jumble of words in a mix of English, Spanish, and Cybertronian. Jack didn't hear the Agent's frantic call to hurry up, or see the panic etched on his face when he turned around and realized they had stopped. Jack could only focus on one thought as his blood pounded in his ears: 

_ Megatron is  _ **_here_ ** _. _

It made no sense. Why was he here? Of all the cities of the world, why did the  _ Nemesis _ come to Chicago using a massive ground bridge? The Decepticon warship was hovering just above the city's towers, menacingly mocking the citizens below. No one had exited the ship yet, and Jack was terrified of the moment that would change.

" _ JACK!! _ " Alfred screamed at him as he shook him by the shoulders. "Snap out of it!"

It was like reality punched the fast-forward button. Jack gasped when he suddenly realized he had stopped breathing. After sucking in a breath, he gripped the agent's arm with one hand and pressed Raf's head against his stomach, reflexively. His next priority he shouted above the crowd’s roar.

"WHERE'S MIKO!?" 

"Communications!" Was Alfred's single-word answer and he pushed Jack forward. Jack stumbled with his first step, as Raf was giving him a death grip. But as he continued walking Raf quickly let go, having understood their need to move.

They hadn't even stepped inside the tent before they were bombarded with a cacophony of white noise and scrambled shrieks of what could only be described as dying paper shredders. Raf dropped to the ground and screamed the highest, loudest cry Jack had ever heard before, even above the noise of the machines. He could do nothing to calm him down as he had to cover his own ears against the noise.

"M-Miko!" He yelled. He couldn't get to her while kneeling next to Raf in a state like this.

Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Agent Jones walk forward and throw the tent flap aside, one hand pressed against his ears to prevent a total loss of hearing. Jack's eyes widened as he saw the chaos within. Sparks were flying and smoke was starting to rise. Then the sharp scent of an electrical fire hit him, and Jack felt the adrenaline rush from his need to save Miko.

Just as he was about to stand and brave the fire, the tent flap was again thrown to the side and a stream of people rushed out being chased by smoke. Leading the group was Alfred, carrying a disgruntled looking Miko.

"I can walk!" She protested with flailing legs. "No need to carry me!" But the statement immediately ended with a coughing fit.

Agent Jones obliged and gently set her on the ground. After checking her condition, he ordered. "We need to get to the vehicles now!"

Jack nodded his head in agreement, though he hadn't been aware the camp had transport. Hastily he bent to pick up Raf, but the boy was being defiant. When Jack tried lifting him up, he received flying punches and a snot-filled face for his efforts.

"Raf! Stop that!" It was the closest Jack had ever come to truly yelling at the younger boy. He couldn't help it though. Panic was encroaching on him as he felt the immense pressure to put as much distance between them and the Decepticons. 

"I got him," Jones said. Jack flinched at the contrasting calmness the man had. He did look worried, but Jack had a hard time believing that imminent doom was upon them just by solely looking at the man.

Within seconds the agent had a squirming Raf in his arms. "This way," he ordered, as if he wasn't bothered the slightest by an eighty pound pre-teen.

Jack and Miko fell into a fast trot right behind him, both anxiously glancing between themselves and Raf. It was Miko who dared to voice their concerns.

"What's he talking about?"

Jack could only shake his head in befuddlement. The sounds and broken words coming from Raf were chaotic and disturbing. Interspersed with buzzes and clicks were  _ don't _ 's and  _ mal _ 's and  _ 'stay...here-th-they're here _ !'. Worriedly, Jack glanced up to the sky. The  _ Nemesis _ hadn't moved, but he was at a bad angle so he couldn't tell if there was movement at the top or not.

"Hurry up!" Jones snapped, and Jack realized he had actually stopped again to stare at the ship. Annoyed with himself, Jack jogged to catch up and as soon as he had rounded a tent he saw their transport.

A military class humvee, complete with a tan and beige camo color. Where it lacked in comfort, it more than made up for in defensive capabilities, for which Jack would gladly accept the trade. He almost ran over Miko who he didn't know had halted when she saw the vehicle. He was confused at her hesitation, before he saw the look in her eyes. They shined brightly with unshed tears, and he felt stupid for not understanding her inner turmoil.

He laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a tight squeeze. "We need to climb in, Miko."

"I know," she snapped back. She shrugged off his hand and climbed into the back seat, letting her bangs fall across her face.

Jack didn't mind her rudeness. He didn't think he would be able to touch a motorcycle ever again.

Without any more waiting, Jack ran around to the other side and climbed into the last open seat. There was a driver in the front who he didn't recognize, along with two armed soldiers sitting across from each other in the open back. Alfred Jones had placed Raf securely in the middle while he took the front passenger seat. As soon as Jack had closed the door, the driver hit the gas.

When they started to move Raf began panicking. "Nononononono! Regresa! Regresa!" A series of broken clicks escaped before he paused to breath.

Miko and Jack had instinctively wrapped themselves around him the best they could while strapped in their seats. Both the soldiers glanced at them in concern, before returning to scanning their rear. One of them was curious enough to ask what was wrong.

Jack didn't have an answer. Everything he thought of would take too long to explain. As always, it was Miko who got straight to the point.

"The fragging Decepticon aliens. What else?"

The soldiers wisely stayed silent after her explosive explanation.

Jack looked up when he got the chance, just to see where they were going. He had no idea how they would get out of a city filled with dead cars covering the streets. But it made sense when the driver moved off the torn, muddy grass and onto a sidewalk. They certainly weren't going highway speeds but Jack was impressed with how much ground they were able to cover in only a few minutes. In what would have taken them five minutes to pick their path through, the humvee covered in one. Jack could only hope that they were going fast enough. 

After swerving past a particularly bold group of people who swore at them when they were forced onto the street after a backwards and twisted version of chicken, Jack stared at them to make sure they actually weren’t injured. Alfred caught his worried look.

“Don’t worry about them, Jack,” he drawled. “They’re adults. They should be capable of understanding the need to move out of the way of a vehicle.”

“To be fair, we  _ are _ on the sidewalk,” Jack grumbled.

Miko perked up at the half-hearted conversation. “It’s like GTA! I say gun it!” No one else was as enthusiastic as her and she was met with silence. Jack could only huff at her immaturity. There were plenty of things he wanted to say to the daredevil next to him, but he couldn’t think right now. All his thoughts were scattered and anxiety was pushing his blood pressure through the roof. He felt like he was losing control over the situation again, and instinctively his grip on Raf’s arm tightened.

He stared blankly out the window, wishing for his thoughts to just stop and allow him a moment of respite. Instead, what he got was a shock of fear. What he saw happened so quickly, he ended up smashing his forehead against the window in an attempt to see it again.

“Ow!” he yelped, as he brought a hand to his forehead.

“What happened?” Agent Jones asked at the same time one of the soldiers in the backseat shouted, “We got one on our tail!”

Immediately, the two soldiers moved into position, cocking their guns in preparation. Jack and Miko both threw themselves over a still-rambling Raf, ready for the inescapable noise to begin. Seconds later, an explosion of gunfire filled Jack’s skull and he squeezed his eyes tight. Miko was of course the braver of the two and she popped her head over the seat to see what it was they were firing at. It took her several moments to see the flash of dark metal because she was looking for a vehicle. But the heinous purple lines crossing the sinewy body were unmistakably Decepticon. It was not a sport’s car Eradicon that was chasing them, but that giant cat. It weaved and leapt over the stranded cars, keeping it’s distance from them, but it was most definitely following them. Being at risk of peppered with man-made bullets didn’t slow it down, as it seemed to effortlessly dodge and dive for cover.

One of the soldiers clicked his tongue in distaste before shouting back that they couldn’t pin the ‘Con down. Alfred frowned at that, but he didn’t seem surprised. At once he turned to the driver and gave a few short directions. The woman just nodded and when they came to the next crossroads, Miko was thrown back across Raf with the sharp turn. 

“Listen up, you three!” Miko and Jack both twitched at the stern voice that came from the Agent. He wasn’t looking at them, too busy scanning the roads ahead for potential problems. But his tone of voice demanded their attention. Without waiting for them to respond, Jones continued in clipped, clear sentences. “Things don’t look too good right now. With that ‘Con chasing us and this mess of a city, we can’t outrun it. So we’re going to lay low for a bit and have another transport pick us up. But we’re going to have to move fast. So get your seatbelts unbuckled, and be prepared to jump out of the vehicle  _ exactly _ when I tell you to. You’ll be jumping out of Miko’s side, got it? We’ll take cover underground, in the subway tunnels. Think you can do that?”

It wasn’t like they had much of a choice in the first place. If Miko had her way, she’d definitely turn this rust-bucket around and charge straight for the ‘Con. But there was also Raf huddling under her, and Jack staring straight at her with his face pale and his eyes foggy. So Miko swallowed back her desires and gave a firm, “Yes, sir!”

“Good,” Miko swore she heard a hint of pride in Alfred Jones’ voice. “Two more turns. Then make sure you swing that door wide, you Punkstar.”

A shiver ran down Miko’s back at the nickname and she bit her lip against the cascading emotions. Furiously, she unclipped her seatbelt, Jack following suit though he seemed to hold a lot more reservation. It took both of them together to get Raf’s off because he kept twisting himself in his panic. A few more shots rang out before they turned the corner. Miko had to stare in awe at the soldiers firing at the cat-like ‘Con because both of them were preparing to pull the pins out of a grenade.

“Sweet,” she muttered before she was thrown against the door. She grabbed onto the handle, ready to pull once given the order. Seconds later, the men threw the grenades and the humvee sped up. The vehicle flew around the corner, and Miko had to brace herself. Massive, concussive explosions rang in her ears and she almost missed Jones’ shouting. But the sudden halt that nearly sent her over into the front seat told her that now was her time. 

Throwing the door open she somersaulted out, earning a couple more scrapes on her person. But she deftly sprang up to see that one of the soldiers had jumped off the back and was helping to pull Raf out the door. The next second she was being ushered by Jones toward the nearby staircases that lead to the underground subway. By the sound of the pattering behind her, Jack and the soldier were close behind. Before they were even halfway down, the humvee was speeding off as if it had never stopped in the first place.

“W-wait, what ar-” Jack tried asking, but he was pulled along by the tag-a-long soldier. 

“Distraction,” was the NEST agent’s answer. “Now be quiet and keep moving.”

Before Miko knew it, they were plunged into darkness. She obviously couldn’t see, and tripped over the last step. She let out a short squeak of distress but immediately clammed up. Punk Stars definitely  _ do not _ squeak. 

“OK, we can stop for a moment. Let our eyes adjust.”

_ Adjust? _ Miko thought. The only light down here was the small square coming from the sky above. But as she let her breathing calm down, she realized she  _ was _ able to see better in this pit. And the source wasn’t strictly coming from above either. Faintly, she could make out the glow of emergency lights along the tracks farther down and bright LCD screens tucked around a corner.

“I thought the EMP blew up all the electronics?” she asked.

“Above ground, yes,” Jones explained as he produced a flashlight. “But Chicago was far enough away from the epicenter that underground facilities, like the subway tracks, managed to hold a little power. Just enough for back-up and emergencies.” The circle of light moving around revealed a rather destitute situation, and Miko openly stared. “...Though I didn’t account for there to be this many people,” he ended with a t’sk. 

Crowding the loading and unloading area was a congregation of people who had taken shelter. They were huddled together around bins of smoldering coals, battery-operated lanterns, and glowsticks scattered around. But surprisingly, there was in one corner the distinct glare of several laptops.

Nobody dared to make a move. Their sudden entrance underground seemed to have startled the residents just as much as the apparently homeless citizens had shocked the escapees. It was of course, Raf that broke the silence. He continued to squirm in the soldier’s arms enough that Jack intervened to help set him on the ground. While they were doing that, a man approached from the back.

“Hello, strangers,” he drawled as he took in their appearance. He didn’t miss Agent Jones’ move to block the others with his body, or Miko’s curious aprehension as she peeked around him. He shrugged his worn overcoat higher onto his shoulders and asked, “What brings you here to the Wind City’s depths?”

Before Alfred could answer, Miko piped up. “Aliens,” she said flatly. 

The man stared at her with a poker-face. He bent over closer to her level, and it was only then Miko realized how tall he was. “Aliens, huh,” he said. She got a whiff of tobacco when he spoke. 

Just when she was about to confirm it, Agent Jones spoke up, “Yes, well. Any chance the lines are moving? Third rail? Any other dangers lurking down here, because we really need to get a move on.”

The man rose back to his full height and shrugged. “Nothing movin’ down here. Third rail sparks sometimes, so I wouldn’t chance it if I were you. And there’s always dangers down here if you’re not careful.” It didn’t exactly sound like a threat, but the man seemed suspicious enough. His eyes flickered to Raf, who had started to put up another fuss. “He alright? Need to git to a hospital, or somethin’? Closest one is four blocks east and two south.”

“No, no,” Jones quickly assured. “What they need is to get out of Chicago. I’m their escort. NEST Agent Alfred Jones.”

A whistle immediately pierced the air and the underground man grinned. “What are ya, some kind of hot-shot, little lady?” He waved his hand back and the people in the background shifted out of the way to form a line toward the tunnels.

“Not just me,” Miko murmured. She normally wasn’t abashed in front of strangers, but this certainly wasn’t a normal situation. She was a little out of her element here.

“Which way you head’n? I can help es-court-yah there myself.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” Jones replied. “I know where I’m going.” He gestured to the soldier to pick up Raf again so they could get moving.

“No you don’t,” the man spoke firmly. “Doesn’t matter how well you know the routes. Some routes are blocked by skimpy barricades and crowbars. Others have, well, a bit more long range systems in place.”

Alfred froze at that. His face was also deceptively blank, but Miko hadn’t seen him pause this long. Finally, he consented. “What is it that you want?”

White teeth shined in the dark. “Now I’m not greedy enough to ask for that there’s soldier’s weapon. Just a couple of rounds to fill up ours. And some cigarettes if you have them.”

Seconds stretched and Miko tried really hard to not fidget. This guy sounded more and more shady to her, but it’s not like she wanted to return to the surface and meet a ‘con. 

“Just to be sure, you have your license, correct?”

The grin was even wider now. “License? Of course I got my license! It’s back home, tucked away in my coat closet.”

Alfred’s face was just as tight. “Very well, then.  _ Only  _ when we get to our destination will you get payment. But don’t try to pull anything over. These kids have been through enough hell already.”

The man’s eyes softened just the tiniest bit and he glanced back to Raf. “I may not buy you a drink at the bar, good sir, but I sure as hell don’t touch a kid. There’s far too many psychos out there like that.”

Miko relaxed just a tiny bit. Not that she didn’t think she couldn’t handle herself, but she had already been caught by thugs once already in this city and she did not want a repeat. 

“Good. Now can we be on our way? Time is running out.”

“Sure, sure. Let’s go. Raimy, Cole. You two go in front.” Two people moved away from a barrel toward the tunnel when they were called out, and the man turned on his heel and walked down the path. 

Agent Jones hesitated just long enough to check his group’s condition. A flicker of regret crossed his face as he asked, “Jack, can you carry Raf?”

Jack nodded in grim determination and carefully moved Raf onto his back. Raf was still panicking, but he seemed to have realized that they weren’t going to let him go so he just limply laid there. And then they were off.

Agent Jones walked confidently down the path, with Jack following close behind. Miko was next to him and she curiously looked around at the people they passed. There were all sorts of people down here. The homeless were sitting across from a couple of businessmen in nice, but dirty suits. Several bunches of women were huddled together under blankets with fear-stricken faces. There were two guys sitting on the ground with the laptops, their glasses reflecting the screens. Miko followed the trail of charging wires to what seemed to be a closet. She had no idea what was in there and didn’t have time to poke around. The soldier was at her back, encouraging her along with his gun resting easily in his calloused hands.

“Name’s Miles, by the way.” The man in the trench coat said before maneuvering around several tall bins and barrels blocking the way into the tunnels. Miko followed after the others and helped Jack climb down onto the tracks. 

“Jones. Jack is carrying Raf, the spitfire is Miko, and Matthews has got our six.”

“Nice to meet’cha, and thank you for your service,” Miles politely replied. He was quickly moving down the empty tracks, his footsteps confident, even with the small amount of light coming from Jones’ flashlight. “Now, you were sayin’ you came down here because of some aliens?”

There was a moment of awkward pause. It seemed as if Agent Jones didn’t want to talk, much like with Jack and Miko on their first trek with him. But Miko couldn’t stand it. She knew that technically the Transformers were a government secret, but she felt as if that was one that had been blown wide open. It was Jack who confirmed it.

“Yeah, have you heard the news?”

“Giant metal aliens floatin’ around on a spaceship? Heck, yeah! I was watchin’ the latest video just before you guys showed up. They were out terrorizin’ Tokyo. Looked like a scene from Godzilla, without Godzilla around.”

“Tokyo?” Miko asked. Her heart skipped a beat. “They were in Tokyo?”

“Yeah…”

Her teeth snapped together sharply.  _ How dare they do that to my hometown! _ Miko may have come to America looking for adventure and freedom from her parent’s overbearance, but that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about them.

Jack explained, “Miko’s originally from Tokyo. She has family there.” The punk rockstar couldn’t quite understand the slight pause or hitch in his voice with that simple explanation, but she didn’t worry about it.

“I swear if those ‘Cons hurt my family or friends…” she let the threat hang in the air, unfinished. She knew she could take down the ‘Cons herself, she’d done it before. But she, Jack, and Raf had to get out of here first.

“Well, from what we heard, Tokyo is more or less fine. Japan had learned from the other countries to not fire on the spaceship. For the most part, everyone took shelter.”

That made her feel just a bit better, but still, she raged at Buckethead and his pack of scrap-heaping soldiers. 

“So where you from? I know you’re not from Chicago.” It was an innocent enough question, but Jack couldn’t stop from flinching. He spoke softly and he doubly-focused on the steps in front of him.

“Eh, whatdaysay?”

“We’re from Nevada.” Miko spoke up this time. Jack almost tripped and she flung out an arm to steady him. The whole group stopped as Jack had to reorient himself.

“No shizz?” Miles spoke. “Ya serious? That states nothin’ but a giant magnet now!”

“Yeah, we saw it happen live. Front row seats and everything,” Jack grumbled and he stomped forward.

“OK, OK, OK. You gotta fill me in on this!” Their guide sounded equal parts curious, thrilled, doubtful, and shaken.

“We three were captured by those aliens on the spaceship and watched as a machine fired on Earth.”

Miles swore for several seconds straight. “Seriously!? Are you f@king serious!? You were  _ on _ that f@king spaceship!? With the aliens!?”

“Yeah, I don’t recommend an overnight stay. It’s cold and the room service sucks.” Jack snarked. His blue eyes glittered dangerously and his lips curled in disgust.

Another stream of swear words came from the man, but after that they walked in silence for several minutes. After taking a turn down another tunnel, Miles slowed down and turned around to look the kids in the eye.

“You gotta be straight with me, man. Did- did they p-probe you or a-a-a….?”

Jack and Miko both frowned. They knew what the man really wanted to know. Jack shook his head and answered.

“No. Nothing like that. There’s a whole story behind us specifically getting captured so there’s no need to worry about anything happening to anyone else. Megatron isn’t interested in humans. He hates us and he wouldn’t want to waste time or resources on anything like that. He just sees us as bugs to be squished.”

The man relaxed the slightest bit. “So nothing… like that? Right? Just… squish?”

“Just squish,” Jack repeated in monotone. “So I’d recommend that you don’t get under their feet.”

“Right, right. Good tip.” Miles turned back around and he was walking even faster this time. Miko almost had to jog to keep up with the long strides. 

After his long silence, Agent Jones spoke up. “So now you understand why I’m escorting them out of the city, right? These three here know the most about the aliens, so they need to be taken into U.S. custody.”

“Got it! Yeah, yeah. I understand now. I totally do! So… uh, yeah, it’s not too far from here. Let’s make sure you kids get out of here safely, right?”

Miko almost wanted to laugh. The tough guy was breaking down after all this talk about aliens. She supposed she was lucky though. Her first encounter with them were the friendly giants. The ones she trusted. The rest of Earth only got to see the maniac warlord hellbent on cyberformation. Little wonder normal people were spooked.

The group again fell into silence as the pressure was on. They had passed by several platforms, one that was empty, and two others that had been roughly barricaded but not a soul around. The tunnels seemed endless and Miko’s feet were killing her. It seemed like she had been walking for days and these shoes were not the most ideal for long hikes. Perhaps it was because of the seclusion and darkness, but when they heard thunderings above them, Miko’s heart leapt to her throat. 

“What the…” Miles muttered. 

Then, the ground shook and Miko stiffened her legs. It wasn’t a bad earthquake. She had experienced far worse in Japan. 

“E-earthquake!” Miles shouted and he hit the ground covering his head. Apparently he was unused to such things.

“No,” Jones muttered as he reached into his coat pocket. “If it was a natural earthquake, then the ground  _ beneath _ us would be shaking. Not just the ground above.”

“What does that mean?” Jack asked hesitantly. He looked uncertain of whether he should put Raf down or not. 

“It means that something is applying enough pressure to the surface to cause a concussive reaction.”

Miko really wanted to stick her tongue out at Agent Jones. Did he have to sound so annoyingly smart? “So the Decepticons are bombing Chicago?” she summed up. 

“Most likely. Let’s move.”

Miles did not look good. He shaikly got up from the ground and took a step toward Jones. “Look, man. You gotta help me! I don’t wanna go squish!”

Jones deftly dogged the man’s grasping arms. “Keep guiding us to our destination, and we’ll-” he instantly cut himself off as they all heard echoes coming from behind them in the tunnel. There were several frightened shrieks and a resounding crash. 

“What was that?” Miles inched closer to Miko, fear and the pale light distorting his features. 

Another reverberating quake hit them, though this one was much closer. It was enough to start knocking down dust and small bits of dirt from the ceiling. 

“MOVE!” Jones shouted and everyone jumped. 

Miles was the first to start sprinting and Miko followed suit. Though she didn’t run as fast as she could have because Jack was struggling behind her and she didn’t want to leave him. The soldier kept one arm out to help steady him, but Raf was a heavy load. The light from Jones’ flashlight kept bouncing around the area, making Miko dizzy. But she sucked in stale breaths of air and kept going. 

Several, exhausting minutes later, with the shaking and sound of explosions getting louder, they arrived. Miles was practically still jumping up and down in a panic, shouting, “We’re here. We’re here! Now what do we do?” He was flanked by his two comrades who were nervously looking up to the platform. 

Just as Jack pulled to a stop, an even louder explosion echoed in the tunnel. This time, though, it was in front of them. Everyone stared in shock and horror as suddenly light broke through the ceiling. 

The entire tunnel was cracking and caving in. Massive amounts of steel and concrete crashed through and they had only seconds before a wave of dust and debris engulfed them.

Jones swore and he pulled Miko’s arm and shoved her under the outcropping of the platform. Jack was rolling Raf off his back and hurriedly stuffing him next to her. Miko screamed at him to come under with them just as the cloud of dust rolled through. It filled her lungs and blocked her vision, though everything suddenly got brighter in the haze. Massive, shrieking roars of bending metal and the tinkling of delicate tiles snapping was all she heard. Fear entered every pore of her body as the insanity continued to escalate. The vibrations were so disjointed that she couldn’t even feel her own legs anymore, let alone anyone next to her. So she curled up into herself, trying to tuck her head under her shirt and prayed to any god that would hear to just make this madness stop. 

* * *

Jack was brought back to consciousness with searing pain so bad he was certain that he was dying. He blinked slowly and a deep groan escaped. Nothing made sense to his foggy brain. Everything was a muted shade of dusty white. His head pounded and he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.Tentatively he tried moving his fingers and immediately pins and needles raced through. It was a new kind of pain that was being added onto his already fire-laced agony. But he did figure something out. 

Half of him was hanging down. He hadn’t managed to get all the way under the platform before the ceiling caved in. So his arms and head were dangling over the short drop in an undignified way, though dignity was certainly the last thing on his mind. Flexing his fingers a little more, he maneuvered his arms to brace himself so he could at least make his body horizontal. It took several gasping breaths, but he managed to fight through the wave of nausea as his blood flowed away from his head. Now that he was able to think more clearly, he better saw the huddled figures coated in a thick layer of dust. Despite his own predicament, Jack felt a wave of relief when he saw Raf and Miko perfectly intact. 

“M-m-Miko,” he murmured, then coughed. That small amount of air circulating caused even more of the dust to fly back into the air making it even harder to breathe. Jack began hacking and wheezing and his entire body convulsed as he struggled for air. It was pure torment. He wasn’t quite sure what else was wrong, but his muscles were fatigued and pockets of cramps popped up with every spasm. 

At some point he blacked out because what he next registered was Miko hurriedly wiping his face away while she was trying to keep his body propped up.

“Jack? Jack, can you hear me? Jackrabbit?”

The light was too bright and the darks didn’t make sense, but Jack obediently opened his eyes to see Miko’s blurred face. Hot, watery tears streaked her tunnel-powdered face and she looked more panicked than he had ever seen her. His second attempt to speak was met with more failure, though he abandoned it at the first sign of trouble.

"Don't speak," Miko cooed. "Just- Can… can you move?" She looked past him, and Jack feared the worst.

Doubling up his courage, he used Miko's help to look over his shoulder. A tower of rubble filled the tunnel, and it looked like Jack was caught at the very edge of it. It didn't necessarily feel like his legs had been crushed, but he couldn’t be sure.

"I- Idon'tknow," he gasped. "I-I-I-"

"Sh-h-h. It's OK, it's OK, Jack. Don't worry. I'll get you out."

Miko gently set Jack down, and this time his arms nearly collapsed under his weight, but he somehow held up. Miko then scrambled around, looking for a way out of her prison. Conveniently, a lot of the rubble stretched along the platform, blocking any chance of crawling out that way. And unfortunately Jack and a huddled Raf were filling up the last space.

"Can, can you back up at all?" It was the most uncertain he had ever seen Miko. She attempted to bite her lip in worry, but immediately made a face when she tasted her dust-coated lips.

Jack groaned, "Try." It was the most he could say. He brought his arms back to the ledge and braced himself to slowly start inching backwards. Before he could go very far, his back lit on fire with pain as his tight muscles contracted. He screamed and instantly stopped.

"Jack!?" Miko cried as she cringed back. She muttered a few words in Japanese that Jack suspected were curses, but he was a little too preoccupied with his own problems.

"Mus-scle… cramps… think." He wheezed as he slowly eased himself back down after several minutes of just enduring. His face was full of tear streaks as well now.

"Well, how are we gonna get out of this?" This wasn't a Miko Jack knew. Normally with a question like that the girl would have been full of bravado and bluster. Now, she was timid and unsure. Her voice wavered and her accent came through stronger than normal. 

Jack couldn't give her an answer. He was far too focused on breathing while not coughing to give her any assurances. Truth be told, he hadn't the slightest clue as to what to do either.

Faintly, Jack picked up on other sounds. It sounded like airplanes flying overhead and other faraway explosions. Another rumble shook the ground and several pieces of debris were knocked down. They thankfully slid nowhere near Jack, but it only drew greater attention to their plight.

They sat in silence, neither able to come up with a solution. Miko only attempted once to try and squeeze past him, but the pain from her hand resting on his back  _ hurt _ . Jack just hurt. He couldn't get his body to move at all.

"What happened to the others? Agent Jones?"

"I… don't know."

"What do you think is happening up there?"

"Idonno."

"Why do you think no one's coming to save us?"

"I don't... know...why"

"Will… will we…"

"...I don't know."

Jack really wasn't sure what Miko's unfinished question was supposed to be, but it didn't really matter. His answer was still the same. Things were only getting worse as the minutes ticked by. The agony was moving into full-body numbness, and his mind was getting more muddled. He could barely slur his words together as it was.

"Jack." It was a statement, a question, a pleading, and an order all in one. "Pl-please don't leave me."

Primus, Miko sounded so scared. Gathering what little energy he could, Jack rolled his head to the side and gave her a half-hearted grin. "Why you... asking me that…. when you're the... the one who… the one who always raaan off... looking for... ad-adventure?"

He wasn't being accusatory, he was trying to lighten the mood. If he had been more aware, he would have realized that was the wrong thing to say.

Miko's face broke and she began wailing. She gripped his shoulders tightly, which sent another shock of pain through Jack but he could do nothing about it. His sister was hanging on for dear life and he let her. Her caterwauls echoed against what was left of the tunnels, making it clearer how alone they really were. 

Jack didn't know how long they were like that. He may have faded in and out of consciousness. But at some point Miko's hiccups halted and she froze. Jack slowly realized that she was staring at something behind him.

He tried looking back, but he only caught the end of the swirling blue-green light of a groundbridge. His heart clenched at the thought of a 'Con standing behind him, but he couldn't do anything. The tale-tell chirp confirmed it and his breathing stopped for a moment. 

A deep synthetic growl spoke,  **_"I've been searching for you."_ **

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Transformation schemes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26263684) by [Crisis_aversion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crisis_aversion/pseuds/Crisis_aversion)




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